As I danced I was swept of the floor like a broom being picked up. I flew through the air looking down at my dad. My dad put me down and took out the broom to sweep. I called out, ” i can sweep for you dad.” He smiled and handed me the broom. I carefully took the broom and swept it across the floor.
Black and brown, witches ride on it you use it to clean sometimes. You can use it for anything you can think of. Like use it to hold a bad guy against the door to save someone or yourself
Ayden Peacock
Snowed last night. Snowing today. Replacing broom for my snow shovel.
If only I knew how to make it fly!
Krys
“pick the broom and clean this house now !”
Cinderela brooming the house
I sat next to my little brother on that old wooden bench. Mimi swept. That “swoosh woosh” of the bristles against the cobblestoned floor invaded my ears and burrowed its way in. I thought I’d never stop hearing it. That broom shouldn’t have been in her hands- it should have been in mine. We should have been in flight, silhouetted against the moon.
As I danced I was swept of the floor like a broom being picked up. I flew through the air looking down at my dad. My dad put me down and took out the broom to sweep. I called out, ” i can sweep for you dad.” He smiled and handed me the broom. I carefully took the broom and swept it across the floor.
Brooms help you sweep up stuff over the floor. Like candy wraps from HALLOWEEN.
Happy Halloween
October 31, 2017
TexasGirl0
Black and brown, witches ride on it you use it to clean sometimes. You can use it for anything you can think of. Like use it to hold a bad guy against the door to save someone or yourself
Snowed last night. Snowing today. Replacing broom for my snow shovel.
If only I knew how to make it fly!
“pick the broom and clean this house now !”
Cinderela brooming the house
Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again? Broom again?
I sat next to my little brother on that old wooden bench. Mimi swept. That “swoosh woosh” of the bristles against the cobblestoned floor invaded my ears and burrowed its way in. I thought I’d never stop hearing it. That broom shouldn’t have been in her hands- it should have been in mine. We should have been in flight, silhouetted against the moon.