A poem on who actually makes up America.

When I think of American creed, I think of you and me.

I think of the green of our beautiful country,

And how it should be for all eyes to see.

My thoughts they linger on big shot singers,

And players that cash checks that have more digits

Than I can count on my fingers.

But mostly I think of humility and

Those who gaze upon our “promise land”,

With eyes that are bright yet worn and ready to tackle

The challenges at hand.

I think of my own grandparents,

With their heavy caribbean accents

And the heavenly, glorious scents

Of the rich food that they prepare together.

We hear it constantly but I don’t know when we’ll start

Believing it or at least not taking them for granted.

Immigrants make America a place with a heart.




Highland School Highland High School

These responses were created by seniors in AP Language and Composition Class at Highland High School.

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