I wrote this one in school from 6 random words the kids chose.
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Last night I had a cup of decaf coffee
with light vanilla soy milk as I sat in my jeans
after a long day of plant-
ing knowledge in the brains of teenage branches
who sat there like mountains
wishing they were on a playground,
instead. Well, I need a playground,
too, and I’m really wishing this coffee
had Bailey’s Irish Cream and a mountain
of whipped cream in it. But my jeans
are too tight so I have to diet by eating leaves from branches
and less fat and more plants.
It doesn’t seem fair that blubber planted
itself on me. I’ve become its playground.
It even sticks to the branches
of my arms. So, I’m sipping low-cal coffee
and unbuttoning my jeans
to allow the mountain
of my stomach some room. Losing weight is a big mountain
to climb but I just have to plant
one foot in front of the other. I could buy bigger jeans
but, no, I exercise like a kid in a playground
and drool while my husband enjoys coffee
ice cream. (I’d like to whip him with branches!)
Instead, I get up and branch
out for a walk up hills as steep as mountains
the color of coffee
and while I walk, an idea gets planted
in my head: I should open an adult playground
and maybe call it “Skinny Jeans”
because exercise helps even though I inherited the fat tummy gene
from my mom. So, if I want legs like branches,
I’ve got to open my playground
and climb over that chubby mountain.
When I reach the top, I’ll plant
a victory flag and have a Starbuck’s coffee
and buy new jeans and eat mountains
of dip until my branches begin to swell again and I’ll have to plant
myself back in the playground and go back to drinking weak coffee.