Hi! It's Emily, and I'm going to be coming as often as I can. That was fun! Here's my little wordbank poem:

Hiking Alone
The ground is flat, but sloped
At a forty-five degree
To me.

My shoes are filled with the white
Sand. I raise my hand
And feel the wind go by

Sloped isn’t what I mean
Not rolling hills
Or people’s hair in rollers on dollar bills

The sand on the dune isn’t cold or salty
Or sizzling hot on my feet
But just warm and sweet

So I want to take a photograph
It would be grainy

I’m the silver hallide
I’m the elephant in the room
An archetypal elephant a the room
A dark spot on a photograph
A dark spot on a white sand dune

But I’m climbing,
Rippling circles around after a drop of food coloring
Bloop! Getting closer to the end
of the poem.
I’ll show them an onomatopoeia
in Shakespeare.