I slowly traced the floor as I walked into the room full of people. Some of my friends gathered around the tables, and I sat in my cold, hard seat.
"I am handing out these poems for you all to find the main idea, and sketch it please." said Mr. Bustos. He passed out the paper with poems printed on them, he passed them onto the table. (One for each person.) "Touched By An Angel" was the name of the poem I got, it punched me in the face.
"Read me...read me." it kept repeating, I red it as my face lit up from the impact. I sketched, I sketched an angel with spiky wings. (Not on purpose by the way.) Mr. Bustos came patroling, and stopped by to compliment my drawing, or that's all that he would do is what I thought.
"It's beautiful! However maybe you can make the wings like this...." he said as he gracefully made curves overlapping the devilish wings. Now the angel was complete (After I had erased the devilish wings I drew), I knew there was something wrong, but soon I realized the something missing was it's natural beauty.
No comments:
Post a Comment