Artifact Poem

September 26, 2016
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With the promise of a shirt,
“Cross Country” written in white,
If i passed them in the dirt,
The near hill put up a fight,
The fastest I’ve ever run,
Speeding up in the darkened shade,
Or the intensity of the sun,
Morning mist beginning to fade,
I passed seven, nearly done,
Exhausted, I laid,
Earned the shirt, and had fun.

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