In my creative writing class my teacher had us rewrite Emily Dickinson's poem Hope Is The Thing With Feathers" My poem probably doesn't make any sense but I tried my best. Here it is:
Love is the thing with petals
That sways in the wind,
And makes a dance without a rhythm,
And never stops at all,
The kindest in the land is seized;
And put in the stem of my heart
That makes me smile brightly
Then it wilts and dies
I saw it in the strangest place
And in the prettiest meadow
And in my lifetime
It never stayed with me
