School Assignment Poems :) Classical Conversations Challenge III

A Cherry
August 15 2007
Taylor Victoria Elise Smith

I cautiously climb the long and steep hill gasping for breath as I reach the top to receive my treat of great delight. I reach the tree that was lovingly planted and grab a branch that sticks out before me as my other hand reaches for the little fruit of great joy. I pick it from the branch with great care for it is so incredibly small. I gently raise it to my awaiting mouth and pop it in with wondrous anticipation. As my teeth grind this fruit of great joy, red juice spills down my chin as I am smiling. It is so sweet and lovely nothing can compare to the cool and refreshing taste that runs down my throat. I suddenly bite down on something terribly hard and spit out the miracle that only our Heavenly Father can create; a seed. As it falls from my mouth to the ground I watch and wonder if a new tree would grow and produce red delights such as the one I had just smelled, touched and tasted. As I am pondering and thinking how great is this tiny morsel of delicateness, I anxiously reach for one more of those delicious treats.

Childhood Memory
Taylor Smith

The Mansion built on Black Mountain Road was where memories were made. For childhood is fleeting and stories are treasured. Friends had come over for us to enjoy. Wading in our extremely refreshing creek, or hiking along the bank of mud, jumping on our gargantuan trampoline was also an option. We had chosen the latter late in the day. We kicked off our shoes, yellow and pink, and hopped on the black nylon that bounced with rytham. Playing fun games we had the best of time, until we decided to indulge in the game of crack the egg. Resounding in the distance, a crack as loud as a gong, my wrist black, blue, and of purple hue. My second wrist broken in a time span of a year. A record I thought as down my face rolled tears. Pain gripping at my chest, arm, body in whole. “Why did you have to jump on my wrist”? I asked myself in my head. With my broken wrist, I had wished myself dead. Alas it did hurt for sometime, but tis better now and healed truly fine.

A Lamp

There is sits on my desk like a lady in waiting, waiting, yes waiting to be put to work. With a covering that looks like a dress and that fans out in a fashionable display. An array of colors shoot forth from its bosom, as the one who delights in it clicks the switch. Light shoots forth shunning the present darkness. Light has won the battle of absence. The dark has fled, like a spirit sent into oblivion. “Save thee”! She cries, from the dark depths, my soul! One click, like a beautiful melody, has chased away the fear of doubt and darkness, like a horse on the run. Tis why God is the Father of light and love, so this object represents the eternal bliss that is to come.