Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

I like this poem because how it describes hope with a lot of different things.

– Emily Dickinson

When I was little my favorite toy was I little stuffed Cow. I would always call him moomoo. He had little spots on his body just like a cow. He even had small tiny horns coming out of head. I first got him when I had surgery. My preschool teacher came after my surgery when I had a 107°f fever. Close to death. I would always take it with me where I ever went. I would play with it like he was part of my family. I would feed him when ever I was eating meals. I acted like he was my dog because I have never ever had a pet. Why don’t you just look at it for your self?