Holes - by Luis Sachar
While helping a student who
was struggling through lines of a poem
Sam was fixing the schoolhouse's roof
in exchange for jars of spiced peaches.
She smiled and tapped her foot to the clicking of the hammer
Katherine sat alone in the schoolhouse
Tears gently rolling down.
Expoloding onto the print.
But when he took her hand
The drops no longer crashed like hammers.
Trout Walker flung his bottle of whiskey
into the crackling schoolhouse.
Smoke stung Katherine's watery eyes
as they seached the black lake for Sam
Until she heard the click of the hammer.
Her name is not Annabel Lee.
And we've settled for a lake
not a sea.
This maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by he.