Kia ora
I am a member of room 22 Kotuku this year.
My name is Isaiah and this is my memory poem.
On a blistering hot day, my feet remember the solid, hard and cold tree,
my legs remember the little branches scratching at me like a cat,
my body remembers falling on the giant logs as i tried to climb higher,
my arms remember stretching out and climbing the long ladder of branches,
my hands remember reaching from branch to branch,
my face remembers being slapped by bushy green leaves,
my mind remembers me as if i were Tarzan.
You've really taken the reader with you - in this piece of writing Isaiah. 'Branches scratching like a cat' is a strong piece of imagery. Fantastic!
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