Frosty, frozen, fangs of ice hang above my ancient shed door.
Dripping, drenching, droplets sobbing gently as they fall.
Sharp daggers of crystal, clear sparkling spikes
Threaten to slice whatever is unlucky enough to be in their path.
By Tom and Owen
Wow - what a fantastic poem. Why not show this to your families? I imagine they will be very proud of your work.Mrs S
ReplyDeleteCool poem.
ReplyDeleteAlex !!!
That's really good you should have lots of pride in it.
ReplyDelete