Goldie writes poems so nice and sweet,
like chocolate fudge, or some other treat.
Goldie smiled at me as she came on stage. She obviously didn’t know I hate chocolate fudge.
She stood right beside me, and she looked at me like, “Move it, Louis.”
Then she whispered, “Move it, Louis.”
That was my job. Introduce the acts and then go stand off to the side so they could perform. But I couldn’t let go of the microphone. I didn’t want Goldie to read poems. I should have been reading my poems, too! Bran said Goldie liked me (euuuuw!) and that she even put that Valentine on my desk! That was so gross. But it might be useful. Maybe she’d let me have her spot.
I whispered to her.
Nope.
I whispered some more.
Nope.
I begged.
She lightened up a little.
I pleaded.
Finally, she agreed.
Meanwhile, everyone stared at Mr. Jones, who was finally sort of standing up.
“Let’s all hear it for Mr. Jones!” I said.
Everyone clapped as he tottered off-stage like a gummy gorilla.
“Wonderful!” I said. “And now, here’s Goldie and her poems.”
“For my first poem, I’m going to read one I wrote about bats. I always thought bats were kind of icky. But then I did some research and discovered how beautiful they are.”
Bats on the Move
Wheeling
Reeling
Through the skySwooping
Scooping
Soaring highScurry
Furry
Leather brownNesting
Resting
Upside down
Everyone clapped politely.