It seems that she’s clumsy as she talks.
At times she mumbles,
Quotes, poems, book titles, and on she rambles.
She is as independent as a burning flame,
Needing only a starting frame.
At times she seems so focused,
Much like a lingering locust.
She is kind and tender to those in need,
More willing then most to take the lead.
Glasses magnify her beautiful brown eyes,
Her clothes are dress-code complied.
With dark hair that seems to have no end,
Flows down in waves and transcends.
A family she has,
So strange, so crazy so filled with piazzas.
With a mother who teaches and a contractor for a father,
Thank goodness they are no longer together!
A sister who seems to be lost in the world,
but slowly coming into her own.
She lives by faith, with the symbol of her sins,
It is easy to find, as it lays under her chin.
She lifts her hands to speak,
It seems to be classes are twice a week.
Her hands so agile, so ready to sign; To speak to those that have no voice.
She wants you to know that everyone has a choice.
Okay, so I wrote that my senior year of High School for my English class.
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