If I were summoned

to create a treasure,

I would take:

the wing feathers from a golden eagle the sudden struck of sun through my window 

and the last song from Michael Jackson 

the speed from a labogeney

the crack from a fire

and the whip from Wonder Woman 

the eye from a storm

the last drop of rain

And a thin slice of slate

the month of a tiger

the pollen from a flower 

and the sweaty ness from a sweat

the skales from a fish

the brain of a scientist

and the ashes from Vesuvius 

In the room of Punctuation, My teacher stood there waiting

In the room of darkness, a dark figure stood there shaking

In the room of pride, I saw rainbows on the wall.

I wandered into the room of trees, looking for a way out.

In the room of question, I questioned my writing 

In the room of nothing, there was nothing

In the room of eyes, I stared.

In the room of future, I saw my test mark F-