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While searching through my childhood dresser, I stumbled across some old poems that I had written back in the eighth grade. Some were okay and some were, well, “cute,”as my teacher put it. One thing is for sure, however, they shouldn’t be seen by human eyes.

But, this is how much I love you all. So, may I present to you for your viewing pleasure, a poem from the vault, as written by a 13-year-old Leroy Brumage.


Moonlite Walk

Walking through the wood,

On a moonlite summer night.

Laughing at the toads,

Croaking at it’s reflection.

Then, walked past a doe,

Sucking on the dew.

Also passed a squirrel.

Gnawing on an acorn.

T’was my time to leave,

And go to my homestead.

This walk helped me,

Find myself.



*As a note, this poem nearly made me cough up blood and hemorrhage at the eyes. I hope it didn’t do that to you*