My thumb is like a tough, bold soldier who lived in the war.
My index finger is like a mother, always pointing.
My middle finger is like a snobbish finger from Paris.
My ring finger holds up all the rings from my other fingers.
My pinky is smaller than a short pencil.
The lines on my hands are like different rivers running through the Rio Grande Mountains.
My hands stretch for the stars in the moonlit sky.

by Takiesha, 4th grade

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