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Joelle Brantley of San Antonio, TX
If she were a flower,
She’d be a daffodil.
Bright and fun and bubbly,
Never sitting still.
If she were a bug,
She’d be a butterfly.
Always loving outdoors,
And flying ever so high.
If she were a pattern,
She would be polka dots.
Very, very colorful,
She would be lots and lots and lots.
My sister holds all these things,
As you can plainly see.
Filled with enthusiasm,
She loves to be with me!
Kaeb Coughlin of Sabetha, KS
Mommy is soft snuggles
On a cold winter morn’.
She makes clean clothes
When they’re dirty and worn.
Mommy is a soft voice
When school is tough.
She helps me out
When I don’t know enough.
Mommy is found toys
In a messy room!
She smells of wind and grass
When wild flowers bloom.
Mommy is covered
In the spring garden dirt.
She always stops her work
When I get hurt.
Grace Harris of Palmyra, VA
My Mother’s soft
As summer blooms
That color gardens
On green afternoons.
She’s hard at work,
As thorns grow wild,
With summer’s irk
In the heart of her child.
She plucks a weed
With thick brown gloves
Tending her garden
With sharp-sweet love.
Her labor’s hard
And never done,
But still she laughs
In the bright, warm sun.
Constance Haab of Jenison, MI
Exactly the moment I’ve finished a craft,
I skip to my Mommy, I’m sure that I’ll see
Her eyes frolic with mine and then start to laugh
And look to show others what she’s just seen from me.
Exactly the moment I’m down into bed
I call for my Mommy, I’m sure that her hands,
Will lift all three blankets to rest at my head,
Fluffing my pillow for a trip to dreamland.
Exactly the moment my Mum drives away,
I long for my Mommy, hoping to hear
The sound of her footsteps as she walks through the day –
The house isn’t the same without Mommy near.
Isabelle Hull of Fort Worth, TX
The way he crawls, it’s like he wiggles,
The way he laughs and happily giggles.
The way he shakes his head left and right,
The smile on his face shining so bright.
The look on his face when he purposefully screams,
The way he loves getting dirty it seems.
The way he smacks his hand on the tray,
The cute funny noises that he makes every day.
The way he sometimes eats dead yucky grass,
His diaper is often filled with a stinky brown mass.
My baby brother Lincoln is as cute as can be,
I will always love him, and he will always love me.