Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Brody's Poem

My back lawn was usual enough. It had a creek, wild animals, covered in bush, caves, mud slides. I did what 8 year old boys do. Hunt for sheep, spy on an old lady, try to get lost, find our way back, target practice with sharp sticks , make huts, whittling sticks, not 3 thing more important than this one activity.

By Brody

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