This is a poem I wrote in the 5th grade:
I am sitting under an apple tree,
on top a grassy hill.
The sun is shinning oh so bright,
yet the sky seems so still.
Our friendship is starting to blossom,
like a new born baby rose.
As as the days pass by,
the rose just grows and grows.
When the rose starts to fade,
and the color is no longer clear.
Please do not fret or shed any tears,
because a new baby rose has just appeared.
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