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Rated: E · Other · Experience · #1941023
A poem about being lost as a child
Seven Eleven:

I was the young age of seven
  The late hour was 11.
I'd been over at Trevor's
  till I viewed the clocks levers.

My head was a spin,
  Mom said "be home by ten",
so I gathered my goodies
  and slipped over my hoody.

It was dark on the street
  but the climate was sweet,
Never that far from home,
  my mouth started to foam!

I was terribly frightened,
  my blood pressure heightened!
All reasoning was tossed,
  "Oh my gosh now I'm LOST!"

No phone number to call,
  so I started to bawl!
Most houses were dark,
  all the cars were in park.

But just then I noticed
  with eye's barely focused,
a man with a lamp lit,
  in his car making parts fit.

So I bravely spoke out
  with my mouth all a pout,
" please help me I'm lost"
  so his wrench he then tossed.

"My folks live on Main!"
  as he peered with disdain.
"Well OK then jump in"
while he locked up his bin.

To Main Street we drove,
  just past Winchesters grove.
"There's my house" I cried out!
  My demeanor near stout!

I said "thanks" to the stranger
  as I fled out of danger.
Mom said "where were you son?"
  "It's twenty till one!"

"I was lost Mom, and crying,
  to get home I was trying!"
So Mom patted my head,
  as she sent me to bed.



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