Charlotte's Olympic Flame Poem

The torch shines

Brightly down at the ground

 The crowd goes wild.

Whistling,

Clapping,

Yelling

Yelling

 And cheering.

The breeze

Is slowly

Pushing my hair.

Lights shining,

 Brightly at my face.

What if I trip?

I can’t

Feel my feet.

I have to

Do this right.

I hope I get

Picked next time.