PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Summertime Fresh Air


Everything gets warm.
The flowers turn into fruit.
During the chill time.
 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

MemeBHeart

I’m a bright, young girl who loves the Lord more than my friends and families and neighbors do. When I was little, I use to have my kindly smile when I learned how to be safe from traffic and strangers. My parents, Mr. Lara Bee and Mena Love Mars Heart, were pharmacists, that means they’re special doctors who make and give away vaccines for sick people. I was named after my mother, who gently touches me, and my father bakes cakes and cleans the yard, and I helped him with that. Whenever I got hurt, God will always help get me well for flying and my healthy heart.

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

MemeBHeart
<p>This teaches me that flowers turn into fruit.</p>

Log in to leave a comment.