December 10, 2009
By cyriah grindstaff BRONZE, Fraanklin, Indiana
cyriah grindstaff BRONZE, Fraanklin, Indiana
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Heaven, where the streets are made of gold
Heaven, where lifes sercerts are told
Heaven,where flowers grow wild
Heaven, once again your a child
Heaven, the weathers always warmand mild,
Heaven, where wing lay in piles
Heaven, where we are free,
Heaven, can't you see?
Heaven,it's for you andme

The author's comments:
I got this idea for this poem when my grangmother passed away and i new she went to heaven.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!