My name-
Harlee Fay Dyer
The game-
Write my teacher a book of poems
What I'm feeling-
Oh crap
I am not a poet
As my teacher I think you know it
I don't like 'busting' rhymes,
I think it's a waste of time
I could be running like the wind
(Look, simile!)
I could be a free bird,, flying over the countryside
(Look, a metaphor!)
I could be listening to the whispers of the willows
(Personification)
Instead, I have to write a two- ton book of poems
(A Hyperbole, for 'ya)
Yes, I am not a poet,
And Ms. Rizzo, I know you know it
But for you, I'll give up my time
For you, I guess,
I'll have to at least try
YOU ARE READING
Freckle Faced Harlee Fay
PoetryA novel in verse written through the eyes of Harlee, a spirited young girl with a voice all her own. Harlee is living a life drifting between a weightless world of fantasy, and a reality she isn't yet ready to except. Soon, however, she'll have to...