How silly, Elephant thought as he roared at the tiger,
To think he could have slowly walked away.
She wrote a dream,
Gentle and sad,
Under a mad dark winter sky.
Spring came about,
Warm and quiet,
The white monster flew the garden,
And a ghost was born of joy.
This poem was co-crafted with my 9-year-old daughter, Phoebe, using those little word magnets that you can rearrange to create passages on your refrigerator—this, of course, makes it my new favorite poem.
The Truth About Tigers 
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