The Moving of the Year
One day I'm here, the next I'm not
For Intel has moved us to a new spot
In state far from where I've grown
A new adventure does intone
And the new high school now feels like a jot.
For no one knows me as of yet
And you can bet that I am hard to forget
And will make myself known
And will try not to condone
Those of whom I have not yet met.
For they may become a friend
And I guess that it all will depend
On if I have the courage to stand
And hold out my hand
To those in whose personalities I therein may blend.
This poem is about:
Me
My family
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