Wilton,+New+Hampshire_Brittany

Its rows of quaint shops and restaurants, Its streets full of entertaining whimsical people. My attention is drawn to the large library, where I spent so many days skimming its multiple shelves, and A fire station, where a friend’s dad once worked. I reflect on how the center of the town is a long, green, metal bridge.
 * //** Wilton, New Hampshire **// || [[image:ca-rhapsodicwritingsch1:500px-Speaker_Icon_svg.png link="http://broadcast1.caryacademy.org/faculty/Briarly_White/poetry/chapter2/WiltonNewHampshire_Brittany.mp3"]] ||
 *  In my mind’s eye, I see Wilton, New Hampshire,

I can view Carnival Hill, the best sledding hill around. I remember sliding down it when it was covered in multiple feet of frozen, white snow. I see the trees’ vibrant leaves of orange, purple, maroon, yellow, red, and copper Whirling in the icy wind, The familiar faces of friends, And ivy winding up the side of an elementary school Whose halls I once walked.

Lastly, my eyes rest on a white house surrounded by green fields and trees. Behind a shed there is a boy, Dog, Girl. I recognize the girl. It’s me. In my mind’s eye, I can picture a place that was once my home. || ||