I'm just so impressed with an essay my niece recently wrote that I had to post it. Great imagery!
By Marloe (Age 11)
When I was little, there were worms that dangled in our kitchen. Red worms swarming over a lump of brown mud in a bowl. The bowl and the worms and the lump of mud were in a cross-stitched picture hanging above the stove. When I learned to read I made out these letters beneath the bowl: "Life is a bowl of spaghetti". Those worms weren't worms; they were spaghetti. I imagined myself rummaging among the twisted strands of pasta that symbolized my life. There were more words, "every now and then you get a meatball". That mud was a meatball. I saw that meatball as a tremendous bonus you might get in all those spaghetti strands of your life. It was something to look forward to, a reward for all that slogging through pasta.