The Journey Inward

Today my 4th grade writers and I tried a repetitive poem.  Here was one I created to share with them.

These desks
     wrought from metal,
     carved from wood
These desks
     office to 4th graders,
     year after year
These desks
     that have seen writers,
     readers, scientists
These desks
     that have been tapped on, kicked,
     and stuffed to the gills
That have seen the joy of friendship,
     heard the peals of laughter,
     felt the sting of cruelty
What secrets could these desks tell
     of hopes, dreams, fears and goals?
What secrets do these desks hold?