The Sharon Academy

Nicole Faust's picture

I could..... but I won't

I could sleep here, among the trees.

I could lie here, close my eyes, and just breathe.

I could sleep here, staring up at the snow;

But I won't; I just wanted you to know.


I can breathe here, in this fresh tingly air.

I can wonder here, why life is not fair.

I can breathe here, or maybe I'll not;

But I won't; don't worry, it was only a thought.


I could sing here, let sound free from my heart.

I could dance here, and stop playing my part.

I could sing here, let the world hear my love;

But I won't; my voice is all yours, my dove.


I could hope here, where time seems to stop.

I could dream here, on flakes the trees seem to drop.

I could hope here, where my face meets the day;

But I won't; because you think it's better that way.


I could love here, crystals hanging like hearts.

I could live here, icicles like darts.

I could love here, and you tell me no;

But I won't; (I like the idea, though).


We could age here, under this cold.

We could age here, stay until we grow old.

We could age here, where ice freezes our sleep;

But we won't; the mountains are just too deep.


I could love you, with your eyes of black coal.

I could love you, with your ice-crossed soul.

I could love you, with your lashes of frost;

But I won't; with the red rose, I know that you I have lost.



Winter is not meticulous

It kisses every inch of bare skin its

Snow fox flurries come across

The pink petals of noses, the red riddles of ears

Opening up to the sound of the

Wind’s unraveling silk.


Winter is a map of silver  

Each snowflake its own

Demographic doorway to perfection

A shock of crystal detail

Sprinkled in my sister’s infinite hair.


Winter is a gift to the blind

For even they can feel 

The morning light

Bouncing off every blade of frost and

The Wall

It was cold in the room, very, very cold. The concrete floor seemed to soak up all of his body heat, sucking it into it’s core. The chains around his wrist had rubbed his skin raw. He lay on his side, watching the puddle of liquid ruby expand around him.

Nicole Faust's picture

Ice Harvesting Time

Ice Harvesting Time


Imagine yourself swimming in an ocean filled with all different species of fish. You can breath under water, but you have a subconscious sensation that you are going to drown. Turns out you are trapped inside a bubble in the deepest depth of the ocean.

Nicole Faust's picture

for Lynn

She walks in blue waves,

like the sky;

100 Miles

      The sky is a dark swirling mess when the car stutters to a halt, its remaining life juice draining from it.

There's A Man Outside My Window

This poem was written by both Izzi and Gus Byrne. Gus is in 5th Grade at Open Fields School.


There's a man outside my window

Who will not go away

He showed up there this morning

He's been standing there all day


I know that he is watching me

He hasn't moved an inch

Boston Tea Party

The time was more than halfway through 1773

When You Wish Upon a Star

When You Wish Upon A Star

The fireflies flicker in the warm summer night, flying free in the great expanse of the universe. Their luminescent bodies twinkle in the darkness like hundreds of tiny stars. The little girl stares up in wonder, her firefly jar in one hand and a sticky popsicle in the other. She isn’t wearing shoes, and the grass tickles her feet. Her eyes are wide with curiosity and she turns to me and smiles a smile that reaches deep inside and touches my heart.

“Look at them!” she says.

I nod, “It’s amazing.”

Syndicate content