March 8, 2009
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Twas the sixteenth of March, in the year ninety-four. A father walked out of the hospital's door. He went to a phone and began to dial. The family was waiting, for it had been awhile. He delivered the news, his voice filled with joy. 'The baby has come, he's my little boy.'

The toys he grew up with never got old. He never stopped playing, no matter what he was told. He could always find fun in the most random places, and always had trouble remembering faces. Although sometimes injured, you'd never see him frown. Even when serious, it couldn't keep him down.

Soon he learned music, a new found passion. He especially loved the marching band's fashion. He plays the trumpet, one of his favorite things. He plays so loud, it'll make your ears ring. The happiness you see in his face when he plays, reminds you of the little one from the old days.

So full of memories, he's grown up quite fast. Nothing could make him forget the past. The future is unknown, but to him, there's no dread. He stands waiting anxiously for the time that's ahead. Right now he's focused on school, family, and friends. From what he can tell, his joy has no end. I close this story with one thing to say. Live life to the fullest and enjoy every day.

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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

bhostetler said...
Mar. 19, 2009 at 10:21 pm
Great poem Ronnie
Dome-chan said...
Mar. 19, 2009 at 7:43 pm
awesome poem Ronald. It's so expressive
MattMan2929 said...
Mar. 19, 2009 at 7:33 pm
RonE homedog, what up! This is totally ghetto man! We needz 2 start 2 sellz these things. Makes some big moneyz to fuel are musical dreams. Catch ya lator big dog...
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