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 
Leave a reply to Jake Cancel reply