Jacksonville

by Brittney | April 24, 2018
Poetry Contest 2018
My Home TownThere a story my grandpa tells religiously. I just set back and try to beeline toward the door. But I tried to hang on to every word with starry eyes. An old country store five miles away an old dirt road that when it rains you can smell that fresh dirt a mile away. Where you see wood getting cut and people helping people. This is my Home town. Where you climb trees and play in the dirt until the street lights come on Yes This is My Home Town. Grandpa and Grandma made a quite a pair where he would begel hunt and she would hold down the house. Never did they fight or argue with each other That's what you call My Hometown. Where we said our prayers before we eat and we said yes ma'am and no Sir. Where there was switches being used when you did something bad. Where you only knew to do was plant things That's what you call My Home town
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