Back in January at a Reading Recovery conference, I had the opportunity to listen to Ralph Fletcher talk and discuss mentor texts. The piece below is written from the poem Ralph Fletcher wrote “The Good Old Days”. I copied the first two lines and last two lines.
Sometimes I remember
the good old days.
Playing kick the can
with the kids on the block,
Running around the neighbor’s yards
just to make sure we weren’t seen.
Hiding in forts
and old, rickety wood sheds.
Getting to know one another
as we waited for the coast to be clear.
Searching through the dark for friends
and watching the fireflies dance in the sky.
I still can’t imagin
anything better than that.