Poetic Response to "Hills Like White Elephants" (Meghan Daly)

.
Simple he says,
But what is simple?
He says it’s easy,
But how would he know?
A life in my hands,
And he says it’s simple.

The choice should be easy
Do I want it or no?

Happy,
He says we’ll be happy,
But how does he know?
If I keep it he says that he’ll stay,
But I don’t believe him,
For if he would stay
He wouldn’t be trying
Trying so hard to get me to do this

Simple he says,
But what is simple?
Easy he says,
But how would he know?

The choice should be easy.
Do I want it or no?

______________________________

Meghan says, "I did this from the point of view of the girl [Jig]. I figured that she is probably going through a lot trying to figure out whether or not she truly wants to abort the baby or if she wants to keep it. I also felt like the guy was saying anything to keep her happy while still trying to get her to go through with the abortion. I tried to incorporate that into my short poem when I said, 'If I keep it he says that he’ll stay,/ but I don’t believe him,/ for if he would stay he wouldn’t be trying,/ trying so hard to get me to do this.' I just felt like the girl needed more of a voice than the original author gave her so I wrote her this."

______________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature--Spring 2008

Posted with permission.

Ballad of the Tenant (Dan, Clint, Evan) (A Group Project)

.
Tenant, Tenant,

I've come for my money
I want my dough
You haven't paid me yet
So now I must spit this flow.

Tenant! Tenant!
Why you gotta front
You know I saw you on that corner
rollin' up that blunt.

Ten bucks is what you owe me
I want my ten bucks now
You say you don't know how you'll pay me!
I say you should figure it out how.

That's right I got your Eviction Notice
Damn right Ima cut off your heat
Oh you can't find your furniture
Try lookin' on the street.

Hell, yea, you gonna pay me
My point, you ain't gonna miss
'cause I'll put some lipstick on my fist
and throw you a kiss.

5-0! 5-0!
You'll never catch me, pig.
Ima run, son
I will never go down for this gig.

Siren!
Police dogs
Echoes of the Gat

Cell Door Slams
Presses Print
Headlines Read

Shots Fired

---.---
-.---.-

Suspect Caught

---.---
-.---.-

Criminal in Jail

---.---
-.---.-

Justice Served
_________________________

(Note: In a 30-minute in-class group project, Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature students were asked to rewrite Langston Hughes' 1951 "Ballad of the Landlord" from the landlord's perspective, while attempting to retain the original structure and cadence of the original poem. After reading their poems to the class, the students discussed how the shift in point of view changes the poetic perspective. The class also discussed how attitudes toward African Americans have changed and not changed since 1951.)
________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2008

Ballad of the Tenant (Chelsea Rosenberger and Ashley Clousher) (Group Project)

.
Tenant, tenant,
I know there is a leak
I called the roofing company
They'll be here next week.

Tenant, tenant,
You must give me time
I need money to fix these things
And you haven't given me a dime.

Ten bucks you owe me,
Ten bucks past due.
Do you think that's enough
to fix this house up brand new?

I don't want to evict you
I don't want you to be cold
I don't want you to come back
to see your furniture has been sold.

Blame me all you want
Keep cursing my name
Threaten to silence me
But my face you will not maim.

Police! Police!
Take this man away.
He's trying to force me out.
I have no place to stay!

This man is a liar
I wish not to kick him out
He threatened to hurt me
Don't listen to him shout.

Lock him up
Teach him something
He can't walk around owing money
And acting like it's nothing.

TENANT THREATENS LANDLORD
POLICE MAKE ARREST

The tenant learned his lesson
To this he can attest.
_________________________

(Note: In a 30-minute in-class group project, Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature students were asked to rewrite Langston Hughes' 1951 "Ballad of the Landlord" from the landlord's perspective, while attempting to retain the original structure and cadence of the original poem. After reading their poems to the class, the students discussed how the shift in point of view changes the poetic perspective. The class also discussed how attitudes toward African Americans have changed and not changed since 1951.)
________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2008

Ballad of the Tenant" (Group #3) (Group Project)

.
Dead beat, dead beat
Where is my rent
Are you telling me
it has been spent

Dead beat, dead beat
The money is due
You are late
and this is nothing new

Give me what you owe me
But keep this in mind
the rent is going up
the next time.

If you can't afford it
I'll kick you out fast,
out on the street
I'll throw your lazy ass

Don't give your complaints
I don't wanta hear it.
Your rent is more important
than doing all this shit.

Help me, help me
I didn't do anything wrong
This man is the bad one
He is the one that doesn't belong.

Don't treat me like an animal
Don't throw me out on the street
I deserve more than that
I'm not a dead beat.
_________________________

(Note: In a 30-minute in-class group project, Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature students were asked to rewrite Langston Hughes' 1951 "Ballad of the Landlord" from the landlord's perspective, while attempting to retain the original structure and cadence of the original poem. After reading their poems to the class, the students discussed how the shift in point of view changes the poetic perspective. The class also discussed how attitudes toward African Americans have changed and not changed since 1951.)
________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2008

Ballad of the Tenant (Jessica Cunningham, Danielle Boyer, Shana Mallory) (Group Project)

.
Tenant, tenant,
Your house is just fine.
You call me every week
Stop calling my line.

Tenant, tenant,
It's not my fault your steps are broken.
You have parties every night
People call me because they are awoken.

You always pay late
Rent's never on time
Your checks always bounce
You're committing a crime.

What? You're reporting me to the state?
You're gonna try and end my career
Ha, that's funny,
but I have no fear.

No way! You're gonna treat me like this.
I work hard at my job
Treat me with respect
You are the slob.

Lawyer! Lawyer!
Come and try this man!
He's not keeping up with his end of the lease!
Put him in the can!

Gavels bang!
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Verdicts reached.

Guilty.
License revoked.
Headlines in press:

Bad Landlord.

Landlord Loses License.

Judge Gives Landlord Time in Jail.

_________________________

(Note: In a 30-minute in-class group project, Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature students were asked to rewrite Langston Hughes' 1951 "Ballad of the Landlord" from the landlord's perspective, while attempting to retain the original structure and cadence of the original poem. After reading their poems to the class, the students discussed how the shift in point of view changes the poetic perspective. The class also discussed how attitudes toward African Americans have changed and not changed since 1951.)

________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2008

Ballad of the Tenant (Jennifer Butts, Tasia Colbert, Katie Fulbright) (Group Project)

.
Tenant, tenant,
You say your roof has sprung a leak,
I surely hope that you don't think
that I remember what you said last week.

Tenant, tenant,
You say your steps is broken down.
And yet when I come up myself.
You don't see me fall down.

Ten bucks you know you owe me.
Ten bucks you know is due.
So until I get those ten bucks,
the problems are up to you.

You know I can evict you.
I have access to your heat.
I can take your furniture
and sell it on the street.

Yeah, I'm talking high and mighty,
I'm gonna talk 'til it gets through,
You're not gonna lay a hand on me,
I'm gonna duck and dodge you.

Police! Police!
Help me keep my land.
He's trying to keep my furniture
and sell it to the white man.

Broken lights.
Water stains
What he said was true.

Broken stairs.
Frozen pipes.
I should have fixed it new.

New flyers say:
We have a vacant space
But if your word goes against me,
I'll put you in your place.

_________________________

(Note: In a 30-minute in-class group project, Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature students were asked to rewrite Langston Hughes' 1951 "Ballad of the Landlord" from the landlord's perspective, while attempting to retain the original structure and cadence of the original poem. After reading their poems to the class, the students discussed how the shift in point of view changes the poetic perspective. The class also discussed how attitudes toward African Americans have changed and not changed since 1951.)

________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2008

What is Fail-Safe? (a Poem by Samantha Colandrea)

.
.
What does "fail-safe" even stand for?
To make sure everything goes right?
Is it to make sure in the worst situation?
That the plane will still take flight?
.
It began when a plane was spotted from Europe
The SAC declared it as a possible threat
But they are not allowed to proceed without orders
So they left it alone without fret
.
The SAC declared for an attack code
They created a bomber group made up of six
The orders are misunderstood because of the radar
And now it is too late for a fix
.
The thought of nuclear war
Causes Colonel to send out the crew
The six flights go toward Moscow
He did not know what else to do
.
Groteschele makes the suggestion
That the U.S. should begin
An attack to make the Soviets
Surrender and give in.
.
They made the attack look accidental
This was actually pretty cruel
Except they didn't think it through
And ran out of gas and fuel.

All six flights went down
And landed them in the sea
The pilots were all dead
And the other plane went free.

The Soviets make an agreement
With the President of the U.S.
They decline his request at first
But ended up saying yes.

The air defense shoots down two
Of the six planes unarmed
But the sixth plane should be left alone
Because it will do no harm.

Because of another disagreement
The sixth plane gets attacked
This was a mistake
That they weren't able to take back.

The President tries to tell Grady
That there is no war going on
Grady doesn't believe him
And sees it as a con.

They sent a plane to Moscow
To destroy the city for the "good"
Except this causes a bombing on New York
The Soviets would do what they could.

The moral of these attacks
Is that war is not worth fighting
It causes all the authorities to argue
When we all should be uniting.

(Samantha Colandrea responded to the book and film Fail-Safe by writing a poem about it.)

__________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Fall 2007

Published with author's permission.

What happens When We Grow Old? (Kate Updegrove)

(Note: In Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature class, students are offered the option of writing a creative response to a poem, story, or play. Kate Updegrove chose to write a poetic response to Langston Hughes' poem "Harlem.")

____________________________

What happens when we grow old?

Does our memory shrink
like a dried up sponge?
Or create a colorful canvas ---
And then smudge.
Do we laugh the same?
Or develop a lion’s roar
With a big mane?

Maybe we don’t move
Like a sloth in the wild.

Or do we reminisce our lives as a child?

_____________________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2007

Published with permission.
_____________________________________

The Game of War (Erin Collins)

(Note: In Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature class, students are offered the option of rewriting a story, poem, or play in another genre. Erin Collins chose to rewrite Tim O'Brien's short story "The Man I Killed" as a poem.)

___________________

*

the game of War

the face of a faceless man
staring back at me.
one eye shut
the other a hole,
looking deep into my soul

the face of a faceless man
haunts my dreams.
nose unbroken
hair clean and black,
glistening under the sun.

the face of a faceless man
I never did see.
his fingernails clean
skin smooth and freckly.

a butterfly rests
on the face of that man.
a man who is unknown to me.

what would have become,
should have become
of the man with no face?

a scholar or soldier?
teacher or lover?
maybe neither, maybe both.

all I knew
was what I saw:
the face of the faceless man.
fragile and beautiful

in life and in death.

_______________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2007

Published with permission.

______________________________________

So Muslims are Terrorizing Americans (Andrew Costanzo)

(Note: In Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature class, students are offered the option of writing a creative response to a poem, story, or play. Andrew Costanzo chose to write a poetic response to Jimmy Santiago Baca's poem "So Mexicans Are Taking Jobs from Americans.")

_________________

Are we? Do we come in
with tanks and guns and say:
Be afraid, terror has come?

Do you put down your weapons,
and concede to terror, and then
wage your war?

I hear we are terrorizing your country,
do we come in, voice high, and
while you are invading another country,
terrorize yours?

Even as you watch TV, and
See the terror that your bombs
and your soldiers have wrought
on the world, you can safely say,
we are taking down the terrorists.

So I look, I look for these
So-called terrorists.

Everywhere I turned, I looked,
Do you know what I saw?
American soldiers, American bombers.
And at the feet of these “heroes”
were thousands of dead.

I see all this and I, no, we,
are the terrorists? Through your
words of hate, thousands die
through terrorism, and it is not us

Turn and look in the mirror,
and you will see the face
of terrorism.

_____________________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2007

Published with permission
_____________________________________

"I Stand Here Ironing," a poem (Adam Shurnitski)

(Note: In Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature class, students are offered the option of rewriting a story, poem, or play in another genre. Adam Shurnitski chose to rewrite Tillie Olsen's short story "I Stand here Ironing" as a poem. This writer has captured the female point of view--not always an easy shift for a writer of the opposite gender.)

______________

The iron, heavy, I drag
Back and forth, back and forth.
The most wonderful gift, but
Timing is everything.

Two years, quickly pass,
She is a stranger to me,
But I have little time to notice.

She is my perfect child, oh,
To love her properly all over again!
She is alone, in the dark, scared.
I assure her that it will all be fine,
And as perfect as she is, never complains.

What price must I pay to win the love,
Of my so distant, sweet Emily.
Nothing I have done justifies,
My poor upbringing.

As I stand here ironing,
It hurts my soul, to drag,
Back and forth, the destructive
Iron. The iron which crushes my
Sweet child.

I was never there,
To ease her pain and sorrows.
I never saw her life escaping,
My loving touch. I merely saw
Myself, ironing, dragging slowly across
A wooden board.
She deserves more.

______________________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2007

Published with permission.
_____________________________________

There Will Come Soft Rains (Autumn Darbrow)

(Note: In Jennifer Semple Siegel's Introduction to Literature class, students are offered the option of rewriting a story, poem, or play in another genre. Autumn Darbrow chose to rewrite Ray Bradbury's short story "August 2026: There Will Come Soft Rains" as a poem.)

Tick tock, seven o’clock.
Breakfast is ready
In an empty house
Standing all alone, steady.

Tick tock, eight o’clock.
Time for work and school,
But the house is empty,
The air is calm and cool.

The breakfast is old
And discarded right away.
Dishes are cleaned
And put back to stay.

Tick tock, nine o’clock.
Robot mice come darting out.
It’s time to clean.
They do it with no doubt

They whirl around
Cleaning every spot;
An empty house immaculate
Not even a dot.

Tick tock, ten o’clock.
The sun shines now
On a city of ash and ruin.
This house still stands somehow.

The west face has been burned.
No pretty white paint.
Only spots here and there,
But ever so faint.

Tick tock, eleven o’clock.
The house is paranoid.
It waits for the tenants
To come fill the void.

It still asks for passwords
And inquires who’s there.
Nothing better come close.
It better not dare.

Tick tock, twelve o’clock.
A starving dog cries.
The house opens the door.
Its voice it does recognize.

The dog searches
For the long gone family.
It soon realized the emptiness
The house can also see.

Tick tock, one o’clock.
The dog runs around, cries,
Spins in circles, bites.
Then it dies.

Robot mice come flying out
And dispose of the dog.
An incinerator burns it to ash
As if it were a log.

Tick tock, two o’clock.
Bridge tables fold down.
Playing cards flutter out
As chairs sit all around.

Martinis appear
Ready to be drank
With egg-salad sandwiches
Sitting on the bench’s wooden plank.

Tick tock, three o’clock.
Silence still around.
No cards being played.
No laughter. No sound.

Food is cleared away
With drinks following, too.
Tables fold into walls.
Silence still seeps through.

Tick tock, four o’clock.
The nursery comes alive.
Animals on the wall dance:
Many different types, even butterflies.

Giraffes, lions, antelopes
Dance in brilliant colors.
Some animals move to the waterhole
Followed by all the others.

Tick tock, five o’clock.
Bath water falls.
The tub is filled up,
And steam the mirror draws.

Tick tock, six, seven, eight o’clock.
Dinner dishes come out.
Inside the study, a fire is lit,
And a cigar burns, patiently waiting about.

Tick tock, nine o’clock.
Circuits turn on.
Beds become warm
Thwarting a waiting, cold dawn.

In the study a voice comes alive
And asks Mrs. McClellan for a poem choice.
No reply comes back.
“Sara Teasdale, your favorite poem, then,” says the voice.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Tick tock, ten o’clock.
The house begins to die.
A tree bough crashes
through a window.
Cleaning solvent shatters over the stove. “Fire!” comes a cry.

Doors spring shut
As the house tries to live,
But windows are shattered open and
Oxygen to the fire the window gives.

Water falls from the ceiling.
Tiny mice try to help, too,
But the water reserve is empty.
The house is through.

Walls are burnt, revealing wires,
And voices cry out until the fire stops them.
The house falls down now.
It’s not even worthy to condemn.

As dawn approaches,
There stands one wall.
The fire did not get it.
This one did not fall.

A lone voice comes from the wall saying,
“Today is August 5, 2026.”
It plays repeatedly over and over.
“Today is August 5, 2026.”
_____________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2007

Published with permission

On Holiday (Liv Carlson)

America
Green acres and purple sky
Yellow houses


England
Island of green hills and sheep
Rainy days


Steaming cups of tea
Uni students in a queue
The flat London sky


Train station
The big clock strikes one
Travelers run


Cloudy moors
Cliffs upon the ocean’s edge
Foggy Foothills


Rock
Black and rough volcanic ash
Many brick walls


“Bonjour, merci!”
croissant, baguette, escargot
Eiffel Tower


Rollerbladers
in Notre Dame’s shadow
Men selling art


Blood red sun
setting on the piazza
smallest country


Volcanic ash
Body cast in cement

At Pompeii

Bicycles
Ride down the canals
Smoke in the air


Dark beer,
Calico cat at my feet
Amsterdam


Big fast cars
Large portions of food to eat
America

________________

WRT310 Creative Writing, Spring 2006

Published with poet's permission

Barbie’s Boyfriend (Amanda Dinmore)

(Apologies to Marge Piercy)

Another boy arose
Blue pajamas, blue booties
Dinosaurs and G.I. Joes.
He played football, it was his life.
Then one day his coach said,
You play like a girl, try ballet.

Intelligent from all angles,
Never even needed to study,
Yet he saw nothing in himself.
Nothing but a body,
A body he would never have.

Spent day in and day out trying,
At the gym, on the football field,
Alone no matter where.
People smiled as he waved
But never lifted a hand.
Never sought him out,
So he cut his hands off.

Teary eyed they came,
Never knowing why he left.
They gathered in a line
Each waiting their turn to
Finally lift their hands to him,
Only to fold them over his casket.

______________

WRT310 Creative Writing, Spring 2006
Published with Poet's permission

Desert Sestina (Rachael Noble)

In the heavy silence
Blood in the dust
And on a stone.
Bones already bleaching in the heat,
Life soaked into the earth.
Sun holds a vigil for the dead.

Sun sets, the sky is dead
Still there is only silence.
Blood-soaked earth,
No wind to stir the dust.
The heavy, crushing heat
And blood on a stone.

Blood, bones, and a stone.
All else is sand, stone-dead.
Madness born of heat,
Anger in the silence.
Death in the dust,
Blood drunk by parched earth.

Half buried in the earth
Almost like a stone,
Bones in the dust,
Sign of the dead,
Reveal nothing, only silence,
Burning in the heat.

A blow in the heat
Blood spilt on the earth
No reply in the silence.
Weapon made of a stone.
Now the dead
Lies in the dust.

Now wind blows the dust,
A sandy blast of heat.
The sky watches over the dead.
Bones covered by earth
Now there is only the stone,
And the silence.

Through the silence, in the dust,
By the stone, in the heat,
Under the earth there is the dead.
________________________

WRT310 Creative Writing, Spring 2006
Published with permission of poet

Daddy's Little Girl (Danielle Fugate, Ashley Reid, Stacey Pusey) (Group Project)

These three writers developed this poem based on the following prompt: In a similar style to Sylvia Plath's "Daddy," write a poem called "Daddy's Little Girl"; thus, the speaker of your poem is the father or estranged husband of Plath's speaker. The writers had about 25 minutes to write the poem. After working on various exercises, the entire class listened to Sylvia Plath reading her poem "Daddy."

You do not do, you do not do
You never did, you always knew
What I was, a man of
passion when love was new.

I didn't have to kill you,
you did for yourself.
Cold to the core, burdened by two,
Not strong enough. It all fell
through.

If I am a vampire, you are
my cross. The very image of
you burns and sears.

A broken soul before me,
but I gave you my sanity.
You only borrowed; didn't
you know I'd need it
back?

My darling wife, you
hollow being, I'm through.
___________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006
Published with writers' permission

A Pet's Love (Hank Weikel, Michelle Miller, Colleen Pisano) (A Group Project)

These three writers developed this poem based on the following prompt: In a similar style to Ted Hughes' "The Lovepet," write a poem called "A Pet's Love"; thus, the speaker of your poem is the estranged wife of Hughes' speaker. The writers had about 25 minutes to write the poem.

Is he a blessing or a curse?
it overtook my life
He watched it passed by
I nourished it
hoping for healthy growth
looking for signs of life
He paraded around with others
I waited
it overtook my emotions
He ignored it
It started to fade away
I held it tight
off again it went
I lingered a moment
waiting for return
then off I went
finding another way
to pull him in tight
I watched its sickness spread to our children
So I tried to heal it
But I felt it dying in him
It overtook my life
As it left his

___________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006
Published with writers' permission

So Muslims are Terrorizing Americans (Dera Nevius, Ryan King, Lauren Wollschlager) (A Group Project)

(This poem was created by students participating in an in-class writing excercise. Their assignment: to respond to Jimmy Santiago Baca's "So Mexicans are Taking Jobs from Americans" by writing their own poem. They had about 25 minutes to plan, edit, revise, and write the poem, just as it appears below.)

September 11, 2001
A plane went down,
and you're on the run.
When the plane crashed,
our guns went up.

To your land we went,
to run amok.
Your sand is now our grass.
Your back our bullets grasp;
we bury the last of the last.

Nuclear weapons won't help you now,
No mushrooms will be seen in the clouds.
Chemical gear to be worn by troops,
From plastic helmets to plastic boots.
Communism stops in all the lands.

Freedom of speech,
and religion for all.
Death to the ones,
Who try to stand tall.
Oppose the U.S. and you will fall.

No armies left
To stand against us.
We just so happen to be the power
In NATO's crutch.
So Muslims are terrorizing Americans.

__________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006
Posted with writers' permission

For My Husband, Leaving His Lover (Michelle Miller)

(This writer responded to Anne Sexton's "For My Lover, Returning to His Wife," by writing a poem from the wife's perspective. I titled the poem.)

I sat waiting...
supper on the table
Dirty pots flung about the room;
it's me, I'm not stable.

The phone rings, and it's you.
I sit awaiting your excuse,
Your children cry.
To you I am the one to misuse.

I clean up the table,
knowing deep in my heart
work has not kept you late
you're with her looking at art.

I hear from friends,
about your damn parades
all over town.
Not even taking cover under shades.

I am your wife;
I've given you three children
We're supposed to be your life
And will once again

For I know her kind,
just for the moment.
She'll be gone soon, and to me,
to me, you'll come for consolement.

_________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006
Posted with writer's permission

Whiten the Earth (Ashton Paul)

(This writer responded to Stanley Kunitz's "Touch Me," by writing a poem from a different perspective.)

Winter never comes, I fear
The chill in the air never occurs
Just last year
When I could play in the snow
and bundle up until I could barely move
then come in late at night to sip hot cocoa
of the steaming drink of heaven
to warm my heart when my body was cold
it was my favorite thing about York, PA
the seasons brought so many new feelings
The hazy sky told tales of white flakes
soon to fall upon the land
I gazed outside from the warm fire
heating my cozy living room
and for the first time I really appreciated life
The roads were closed
I was off school for the day
I long for the wonderful season
I will no longer experience in Florida
Remembering, remembering, remembering
That part of my life that's now gone
One season each year
*

but now, never again.

*

So let the white pieces of heaven

fall from the sky in York

and bring happiness to the children who

may truly appreciate the beauty of winter

Fall upon me, don't you remember how

we used to play?

Whiten the earth! Remind me of my youth.

___________________

LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006

Posted with permission of writer