Ah, excellent. We are starting poetry at school...
My Grandma's Biscuit Tin
(This is my homework....)
My Grandma's biscuit tin always sat on a shelf.
Filled with mystery.
Inside she kept her cherished memories,
clippings, photos, memories.
I would stare at it for hours on end.
Waiting, watching, hoping.
Maybe one day I would see inside.
Mystery, hoping, waiting.
My Grandma would never let me see in it.
Sadness, despair, Loss.
My grandma became sick and went to hospital.
Worry, pain, misery.
She died that same week.
Loss, greif, depression.
And so we had to sell her house.
Hollow, empty, anguish.
So I pulled down that biscuit tin.
Excitement, wonder, hope.
Inside were pictures.
Thats just a start...do you like it?
KingRyan