Last Day of School
sigh. Where did all that time go? Now is the time of leftover school supplies coming home, of the feelings of excitement, of thinking of all the summer fun that is yet to be had, and of the buying of more wine. I’m kind of kidding about the wine. No, I’m not. Anyway, since I blogged some of my oldest son’s poetry last week, I thought that I’d share some of my 8-year-old’s, today.

Yawn

Yawning, yawning,
yawning reminds me of many things.

Wind is a symbol for another reminder
called stopping the airflow.
It’s like stopping the music.

When you’re in bed you’ll hear a vent
blow air.
Air is the last reminder.

Oh, air, without air you couldn’t yawn.
And without yawning I wouldn’t have
written this poem.