My Locker
My locker is a cozy place,
And it's not decorated with lace.
There's magnets on the door,
and a shelf on the floor.
There's books piled high
But not as high as the sky
My back-pack hangs on one hook,
And my jacket in another nook.
There's also my combo lock
with lots of numbers, like a clock
There's a shelf on the top,
But that's not for storing pop.
The outside is very plain,
They all look the same.
There are scratches on the door,
and dust on the floor.
The rusty handle is all banged up,
the locker door will get stuck.
The bad smell could make you nauseous,
So don't smell them; be very cautious.
Your backpack is in there, too,
And hopefully not a stinky gym shoe.
My locker is a cozy place.
It is my own personal space.
Tired
I wish that I could go to bed.
That's the one thought in my head.
My eyes are slowly shutting,
getting heavier by the minute.
As I daydream of crawling into my bed,
Snuggling under the covers,
Pulling the sheets up to my chin,
the room all black, me all warm.
But I can't sleep now, because it's time for lunch.
And now, I'm hungry.
Swim Meet
As I bend over on the block,
I try hard to keep still.
I want to explode,
I can't hold the thrill.
I leap off with all
the energy I can muster,
Splashing in the water;
sleek and clean,
Hard dolphin-kicks up to the surface,
Taking two strokes, then I breathe.
My arms reaching as long as they can,
Breathing only when I need to,
The water turning to a foamy white,
Before I came it was a clear blue.
As I get closer to the wall,
I remember what the coaches said
I swim in, I nail the wall.
I know all the expectations have been met.
I start to kick faster,
I'll sprint the way in,
I hit the touchpad hard,
Hoping to win.
I look at the board,
to see my time.
Yes! I say,
I'm not placed number nine!
But I know that it's not about winning,
but having fun.
To feel adrenaline,
the meet's going to be a great one!
My locker is a cozy place,
And it's not decorated with lace.
There's magnets on the door,
and a shelf on the floor.
There's books piled high
But not as high as the sky
My back-pack hangs on one hook,
And my jacket in another nook.
There's also my combo lock
with lots of numbers, like a clock
There's a shelf on the top,
But that's not for storing pop.
The outside is very plain,
They all look the same.
There are scratches on the door,
and dust on the floor.
The rusty handle is all banged up,
the locker door will get stuck.
The bad smell could make you nauseous,
So don't smell them; be very cautious.
Your backpack is in there, too,
And hopefully not a stinky gym shoe.
My locker is a cozy place.
It is my own personal space.
Tired
I wish that I could go to bed.
That's the one thought in my head.
My eyes are slowly shutting,
getting heavier by the minute.
As I daydream of crawling into my bed,
Snuggling under the covers,
Pulling the sheets up to my chin,
the room all black, me all warm.
But I can't sleep now, because it's time for lunch.
And now, I'm hungry.
Swim Meet
As I bend over on the block,
I try hard to keep still.
I want to explode,
I can't hold the thrill.
I leap off with all
the energy I can muster,
Splashing in the water;
sleek and clean,
Hard dolphin-kicks up to the surface,
Taking two strokes, then I breathe.
My arms reaching as long as they can,
Breathing only when I need to,
The water turning to a foamy white,
Before I came it was a clear blue.
As I get closer to the wall,
I remember what the coaches said
I swim in, I nail the wall.
I know all the expectations have been met.
I start to kick faster,
I'll sprint the way in,
I hit the touchpad hard,
Hoping to win.
I look at the board,
to see my time.
Yes! I say,
I'm not placed number nine!
But I know that it's not about winning,
but having fun.
To feel adrenaline,
the meet's going to be a great one!
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