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Literature Text
Mom in the garden, on her hands and knees.
My brother is climbing, up the tallest trees.
As i listen to the birds and the bees.
The sun set's and the light goes dim.
My mother continues,
My brother still climbs,
This was the life,
These were the good times.
My brother is climbing, up the tallest trees.
As i listen to the birds and the bees.
The sun set's and the light goes dim.
My mother continues,
My brother still climbs,
This was the life,
These were the good times.
Poem I wrote, I think it's good.
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