Best Kid Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Kid poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of kid poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Kid poems, articles about Kid poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Kid poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
New Kid Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Kid poems are below this new poems list.
Awesome Kid Grandma
by Krutsinger, Caren
Group Home Kid
by Aguilar Jr., Todd
THE KID WITH THE VELVET EYES
by Riley, Wayne
The strange kid
by Words, Piercing
The FIGHTER kid
by Jangid, Arjun
bullied as a kid
by harris, matthew
The TV Kid
by Bond, Kim
As a kid
by chandler, stuart
Testing the Faithful - As Gender, Religion, and a Kid, Collide One Sunday Morning
by Olson, Richard
by nair, sadashivan
View all new Kid Poems
The Best Kid Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016
This time I didn't need to remember what it was like to be a kid
This time I didn't need to memorize when all the fun have been .
This moment wasn't that moment of madness and responsibilities ,
this was a brief moment to live , I lived in my dream .
How I danced , there I danced with the flutter of a butterfly ,over and over again.
There I was , immersed in the body of a little brown eyed girl.
Dressed up neatly in a white collar shirt ,and a navy blue pinafore dress.
How I ran , I ran breathlessly in evergreen fields full of buds
that barely blossomed through the eyes of women , and men .
How I jumped , like a frog earning its freedom , doing my utmost to catch the sky,
to reach the soaring hand-made kite ,that kept moving far and high.
My left -hand never letting go of that special red balloon , it was mama's reward , that afternoon.
Each following morning, so hard to get out of bed ,but that only lasted till I saw Uncle Frans'hat.
How happy I was to sit on his lap ,, and listen to stories He read.
How happy I was , to lick early raindrops that ran fresh down my cheeks,
How different , from the once I feel when I'm out of my sleep.
What moments to preserve....There , on the back seat of papa's new second-hand car ,
Our chitty chitty bang bang , travelled so far.
There , me and my brother , our face against the wind,
Open mouths , Indian sounds , humming along , waiting for tree-birds to sing.
What a moment , of hide and seek, and musical chairs ,Of midnight mass and Christmas prayers .
I lived them all .... Splashes of waves , and buckets on sands ,
Autumn's foliage , picnics , with cousins and friends.
There I was , immersed in the body of a little girl
with long noichettes french -braids swaying in the breeze ,
Playing hopscotch, out in vacant cobbled streets.
This time I didn't need to remember what it was like to be a kid
This time I was there, in the dream , I have lived .
This time I tasted sweet honey before I 've been kissed
Before years cursed the pink of my innocent lips .
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015
An apple is Red,
I like eating bread,
Banana is yellow,
I am jolly fellow,
Pear is green,
I am neat and clean,
Coconut is brown,
I am little clown,
All fruits are nice,
They make us healthy and wise!!
Copyright © Neha batra | Year Posted 2016
I lay on my pillow in a dark, dark room
Staring out the window from my bed
The moon looks like Camembert floating in the sky
And I’m sure I seen two witches flying by.
One had a broom with black smoke shooting out
The other had a pair of training wheels,
They were both being followed by their huge black bat
And in the naked tree my neighbour’s cat.
I crawl to my window stretch my neck and peek about
Halloween’s ascended on my street
Pumpkins guarding porches with their eyes on fire
And my stomach is now turning like a dryer
Suddenly behind me comes a scratching sound
Chills run down my back, I close my eyes
I bite my bottom lip planning my escape route
And I quickly grab my bear on my way out.
My parents seem startled as I crash into their room
I tell them of the horrors I’d endured.
Dad lifts me up and mother gently strokes my head
And in minutes I’m sleeping snuggled in their bed.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: In a Dark, dark room
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Do you know exactly how to eat and Oreo,
Well to do it you,
You unscrew it.....very fast.
'Cause a kid will eat the middle of an Oreo first;
And save the chocolate cookie outside for last.
Sing Me A Jingle Contest
Copyright © Daisy Marie Yant | Year Posted 2015
I walk past empty bedrooms that once held my boys
The beds made so perfect, the absence of noise
Books there on the book shelf and not upon the floor
No ear-splitting music, no slamming the door
It’s eerily quiet now these once busy dens
These bunkers of bustle with brothers and friends
They’re off to college now the closets are clean
They only come home now on days in between
The weeks of the study the homework and toil
With loads of their laundry all dirty with soil
These nice empty bedrooms so tidy and neat
Just aren’t the same in their pristine retreat
As when the sneakers are thrown in a corner
The fridge it is drained like an unwilling donor
The noise and the smell of exercised teens
Showing off muscles with biceps and spleens
Banging a cupboard while toasting some bread
At three in the morning before heading to bed
Now some dorm at the coast, in some far away place
Or corner of frat-house who’s presence they grace
Our bedrooms are empty the rooms nice and quiet
The sheets all in place and the fridge on a diet
But once in a while it all comes to life
Things they are back to the brotherly strife
Rooms not so tidy and sharp as a knife
As when we’re alone…just me and my wife
Copyright © david kettler | Year Posted 2015
riddles N' rainbows paintbrush the day
summer's heaviness invades
rain circumvents geraniums
ant's N' azaleas dance through sidewalks
where tiny green grass creep 'neath weeds
to see sun seed grey with bright
frogs N' grasshoppers flop along
when storm clouds bend beyond old oak trees
boys N' girls skip rope,
Double Dutch N' such
up N' down the cul de sac curve
moms N' dads pretend everything's ok
when they've long since strayed away
from light N' love
gloves come off
when lights go out
they scream N' shout
the children barely notice
yet they'll feel the coldness N' cold shoulders
as it's gets colder N' colder
just not days N' nights like now
fuss N' fights have no place
right here N' right now
along these roasting roads
where ticky tack homes
where riddles N' rainbows paintbrush the day
summer's heaviness invades
as nature n' naïve children play...
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014
Listen to poem:
By Robert (Bob) Moore
The things that we remember, from days of long ago
we believed, it was all true, our parents told us so
we now know they were kidding us, a trick on me and you
to make us do just what it was, they wanted us to do
If I was pulling funny faces, from something that was said
my mam would tell me “stop it”, and then she’d shake her head
you’ll be sorry, she would say , “for if the wind should change”
that’s the look you’ll have forever, everyone will think you’re strange
we were told, “to catch the worm, we had to get up early”
you had to “eat all of your crusts, if you wanted your hair curly,”
if you “asked a stupid question, you would get a stupid answer.”
and if you dared to answer back, that would be disaster
it did not matter what went wrong, “a cup of tea would fix it”,
if you were at your Granny’s place, you might even get a biscuit
“you will live by my rules, while your living at my place”
“because I said so, that’s why”, and “wipe that look off your face”
“if all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too”
“I just hope when you have kids, they’re all as bad as you”
“don’t you dare do what I do, you just do what I say,”
“I’ll even help you pack your bags, if you want to run away”
“be a pigs foot in the morning”, that is what my dad would say
if I ever hurt myself in some really stupid way
I didn’t want a trotter, growing from my arm or brain
don’t “Kak your Keks”, it’ll soon heal up, and “you’ll be right as rain”
If there’s kids starving in China, does it help to eat my food
“I’ll have to wash your mouth with soap”, if you don’t stop being rude
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you”, “don’t take that tone with me”
“I’ll give you something to cry about” just you wait and see.
We all remember things we heard, and promised not to say
but now and then our parents training, just gets in the way
and we find that we are sounding, just like our parents did
and passing these silly sayings, down the line, and to our kid
Copyright © Bob Moore | Year Posted 2016
Quote used "I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”
Dr. Seuss, Green Eggs and Ham
My mum says I’ve got to eat all my greens
They’ll help me grow strong, guess l know what she means
But why green eggs and ham, I just want to eat jam
For I like to eat jam whenever I can
Jam on potatoes, oh that’s simply delish
I spoon it on carrots and it covers my fish
I eat jam for breakfast and always on dinner
Mum says I’ll get fat and I need to be thinner
Why does mum always think that she’s right
I need to eat jam morning, noon and night!
Every night time I kneel by my bed and pray
I thank God for letting me eat jam every day
But why won’t he listen for he knows I don’t like greens
I’d put them in firework and blow them to smithereens
Sadly mum disagrees and still gives me green food
It makes me all grumpy and puts me in a mood
But I eat them all up as I don’t want to fight
I still tell mum I love her every single night
7th August 2015
Contest – Dr Seuss Quote Prompt
Sponsor Casarah Nance
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
We loved the lollipops, cracker jacks, Holloway candy sticks We adored the chocolate coated ice cream bars, and the tootsie rolls.
We could not get enough of the pop sickles, cool aids, and soda pops.
We sang a love song saying, “Ice cream, soda water, cream on top, tell me the name of your sweet heart”. We had the best tasting cookies and cigarette candies that eyes had ever seen. We were just poor kids in America’s poorest state; but no kids were sweeter than us. We were hot as fire, hassled and harassed by humidity and drops of sweat, but we were sweet.
Life was hard in my little Mississippi delta town; But somewhere between hard work and chores; between feeding the chickens and the cows; between feeding the goats and the hogs; between watching TV and doing home work;
between the sun ups and the sun downs; and between the dawn and the dust;
Yes, in between, we found time to play. Most times we were okay, didn’t go astray, and had lots of fun in the barns, playing in the hay.
We rolled rubber tires like driving fast cars; laughed out loud as we sucked whining balls. Money was always lacking, but we did our share of licking, chewing, and sucking the sweet stuff
We bought a lot for the few pennies, nickels, and dimes that we had.
We could buy our treats cheap back then. So we did our best to stay sweet, chewing bubble gum filled with sugar. We didn’t have a care, and learned how to share; and the sweet stuff was always there.013008
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
She's only 12 1/2 years old as I recall
Adult minded who walks before the crawl
How did she join us and we not figure out
Her mind is not a kid but adult throughout
She calls herself "the Literature Lover"
Flowing through Soup we soon discover
Her name might well be misconstrued
She's smart, bright and cunningly shrewd
So BE AWARE all YOU poets so BOLD
The Kid's not a novice at 12 years old
Good Luck to all of us we're gonna need it!
Copyright © Judy Konos | Year Posted 2015
It was a homeless old man near a shoe store who fell asleep
He was so tired that nap turned to a sleep that was deep
A little boy walked passed with his mother and noticed that the old man had one shoe
He felt sad, “mother it’s something I just got to do!”
That little boy face was full of tears
His little heart grew big because he cared
He grabbed both of his mother’s hand and tightly grasped them leading her into prayer
After the short and quick prayer, “Mom I was just told to share.”
He had ten dollars from his allowances that he saved for weeks
His mother didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t even speak
Immediately he rushed in the shoe store and asked the clerk how much was that one black wing tip shoe
The clerk had a big smile and said it was thirty-two
Every customer and fellow employee gave money to make the little boy prayer come true
Instead of thirty-two dollars he now had sixty four
He quickly grabbed the shoe box and ran out the door
The little boy shook the old man out of his sleep and gave him the box
When the old man woke up his eyes was full of tears and he was shocked
Big crocodile tears rolled down his face
He grabbed the little boy and gave him the tightest embrace
The old man yelled, “This is the best gift yet!”
Some say the old man got up and danced until the sun set
Mark 12:30-31 (NIV) Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’[a] 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] There is no commandment greater than these.”
Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2016
Remember when we were kids, we use to laugh out loud ?
We use to stay awake for days, jumping and running..
Breaking the limits of sound....
Remember when we had a fight for the very first time and you cried ?
We use to be funny kids playing all around, no space for sadness or tears....
Except the tears of joy , those we couldn't hide...
Remember when we use to make branks to uncle deen ?
We throw at him a pocket of painting, we wrapped his legs...
Remember when we broke his phone screen ?
Remember when we use to run through the woods to have fun ?
Funny kids we were , I believe we still, I know we're old but our souls still young...
If you don't believe me, let's make a race and start to run....
All these memories about our days when we were kids is what's keeping me a life...
There's nothing to worry about when we were kids exibt having fun...
Now see how life cut our throats with her knife.....
Funny kids, yes funny kids that's how we use to be...
Funny oh yeah funny, you can't remember but believe me it's real...
In my memory I look to the mirror and I see the funny kid who still lives inside of me...
Copyright © Dalia Shahein | Year Posted 2015
I’ve polished all my fingers,
And polished all my toes.
There’s polish on my knees,
And even on my nose.
I’ve watched my sister do it.
She always gets it right.
But when I try to paint it on,
I’m such a dreadful sight! ~
Though I get it everywhere,
I really wouldn’t mind,
But someone help me figure out,
How it got on my behind!
Copyright © Judy Valko | Year Posted 2017
WHERE DO FROGS GO TO THINK?
Where do frogs go when they need to think?
I've often wondered where.
When they're not feeling quite in the pink
do they hide under the stairs?
Do they feel like they must follow rules
and stick to a Lilly pad?
Or can they hide in a shed full of tools
when they are feeling sad?
What if a frog felt like being alone
away from his froggy friends
Where could he go to be unknown?
Well, I guess that depends.
He couldn't go to the circus or show,
he would never be sold a seat,
he would not like a plateau of cold snow
it would be very tough on his feet.
French restaurants are not the place for him,
and he would not like to see a bait shop
but he might make some friends over at the gym
and he would be a big hit at the hop!
He could go to the library, its quiet in there
maybe catch up on some old books.
Or he could ask the beavers to share their lair,
he tried the geese and got some funny looks.
It needs to be safe, it needs to be quiet,
it needs to be worry free,
he needs to have access to his daily diet
of flies, bugs, worms, and bees.
Maybe under some roots, or the edge of a bog,
some place that might make him glad,
side of a meadow, or an old rotten log,
or even his own lilly pad.
And what would a frog think about,
when they take the time?
Do they think about flies, or avoiding trout?
That is a question for another rhyme.
Copyright © Christopher Reilley | Year Posted 2014
She was simply complex, an experienced novice,
aiming to be the new veteran teacher
A 'wanna-be', who hadn't foreseen a backup plan
Her insight unseen, until today
she recited old news
They'd heard her sweet nothings, many times…
Yet, she sadly adored the leisurely chore
that bored their poor privileged minds
The dear little crowd of devilish angels
sitting by rows in random order,
ignoring the hum, as she reads quietly aloud
as she slowly runs through her notes
with a smooth, sandpaper voice
They've been given no choice
but to listen with deaf ears
to her frantically composed
lesson in geography
Words deceptively clear to no one but her
wishing, with timid conviction if just one time
they memorize forgettable statistics
before the school bell chimes
As she tests their ignorant knowledge
they are distracted with attention
on bulging bladders and the lavatory
eagerly dreading cold inflammatory
of drowning in hot fires of this purgatory!
Contest: Oxymoronic Obsession
Sponsor: David Lindsay
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
The picture on the wall of mommy and her little ones
Daddy is missing
This is not the only picture he has erased himself from
But his shadow lives on
Some of the kids are a copy and paste of him
Some of the kids' characters are all daddy
Mommy knows this so well
Daddy is missing the jovial hugs from his kids when he gets off work
Daddy is missing the never ending tales from his little angels
Daddy is missing the school projects, the perfomances... the church camps, the baptisms...the road trips, the colorful playgrounds.....the kids' parties....the rewarding feeling of watching tiny sprouts grow..
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
10 little kids are messing with twine
one got strangled and then there were nine.
9 little kids are hooking up bait
one took a bite and then there were eight.
8 little kids are playing with kevin,
one got tripped and then there were seven.
7 little kids were throwing bricks,
one got hit and then there were six.
6 little kids are eating chives,
one got sick and then there were five.
5 little kids are now at war,
one went down and now there are four.
4 little kids saw reality,
one enjoyed and now there are three.
3 little kids went to Timbuktu,
one got lost and now there are two.
2 little kids have spun and spun,
one fell down and now there is one.
1 little kid is all but done,
he runs home and now there are none.
Copyright © victoria ward | Year Posted 2016
Three Year Old….thinking
that potty training thing was over rated
and that “big boy” thing - quite overstated
now I can pee on the ants
thank goodness for my “big boy” pants
my feet are cold
I miss my “footies”
my “wuzzie” – mom had to boil it
just cuz I washed it – in the toilet
tried the cat’s food this morning
now I know why he licks himself
I’m kinda like a sunbeam
I can’t sit still
dressed myself this morning
who knew – colors clashed!!
wonder what the cat would look like
with a new hair cut
I wonder what it is I’ve done
when mom says “Dad, go get your son!”
why can’t you guys leave me alone
and let me enjoy my ice cream cone
got hold of the remote last night
they’ll never find it
I like bugs – mom doesn’t
thought it was funny – it wasn’t
Submitted to – Three year olds thoughts – Poetry Contest
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2017
Note: Written from the perspective of a teenager.
Our older brothers and sisters
Were the last to live without technology
Our generation wouldn’t last a day
Without a cell phone in their hands
It’s too late for most.
Our younger brothers and sisters
Are growing up with technology
A ride in the car requires an iPad
Without a screen life is unbearable
It’s too late for most.
Our moms and dads
Are already adjusted to technology
There lives wouldn’t function without their computer
Technology is not a problem
The way we are getting used to it is.
Copyright © Jimmy Mxxxxx | Year Posted 2014
In a perfect world...
Things won't break,
Our clothes don't shrink,
Bugs won't bite,
And skunks don't stink.
People never snore,
They don't even sneeze;
Ice cream never melts,
And puddles don't freeze.
There are no creepy crawlers,
No slimy pets,
No spooky sounds,
No noisy jets.
We never get dirty,
We never get told,
It's never too hot,
It's never too cold.
No one is shorter,
No one is taller,
Nothing is bigger,
Nothing is smaller.
In a perfect world...
There's no fun at all.
But in our not-so-perfect world,
We always have a ball!
by Ana Espinola Collins
Copyright © Ana Espinola Collins | Year Posted 2014
I was fascinated by frogs, dinosaurs, and outer space.
Comic books, video games, and fast cars to race.
I got my clean clothes dirty and skinned my knees.
I spent my afternoons climbing high up in the trees.
Came home from the playground with shoes full of sand.
Went fishing, and held up my catch with my bare hand.
I would get on my rusty, blue bike and ride to the park.
Where we played games of tag or catch almost until dark.
After school, I would go play baseball with the boys.
Then, stay up late, listening to music and make noise.
My homework sat in my backpack and never got done.
I was too preoccupied with finding adventure and having fun.
I was the tomboy that liked building Lego block walls.
I was also a girl who played with pretty Barbie dolls.
Richard Lamoureux's Gender Bender Contest
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
I sat on the toy store shelf, feeling all bottled-up and unwanted.
The kids prefer to play with video games, these days,
rather than being outdoors with me.
Then one day, this little girl grabbed me down from the shelf
and begged her Mommy to buy me.
She took me out to play as soon as we got home.
The spring day was so bright as I met the sun for the first time.
I could not contain the joy that I felt
as she unscrewed the lid and dipped the plastic wand
into the soapy liquid. She brought the wand to her lips
and gently blew out a line of iridescent bubbles.
I felt so free, floating through the air with my new friends.
Her giggles of delight were the sweetest sound.
She dances as we swirl around her. Pure imagination takes over
as she pretends to be a fish in a bubbly underwater world.
I will never forget the wonder that was in her eyes.
The wind caught each one of us, taking us on a new adventure.
She runs to try and catch me as I drift up and away from her.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
May 20th, 2014
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
I was awesome;
destined to be rich and famous when I grew up.
Until that happened,
I settled for being a superhero…
And I was!
I was untouchable.
So fast you couldn’t even see me,
and faster still in my special shoes…
which was a good thing
because I had underwear on my head.
I was the picture of heroism
posed before the oscillating fan
which billowed my bed-sheet cape
and modulated my voice
to mimic a pre-pubescent Optimus Prime.
With a giftwrap-tube in hand
I was armed for any conflict.
Yet for all my power, I was incorruptible.
My faith was absolute…
in the certainty that
good always triumphs over evil,
and I never intended to lose.
I sought the distressed damsels
because that was the right thing to do…
not for any reward;
certainly not for their cootie-infested
kisses of gratitude.
I was great beyond everything I knew,
universally loved and adored.
I was the greatest hero the world had ever known,
and everyone wanted to be my friend…
…until they didn’t.
Because wearing fruit of the loom helmets
is for weirdoes and losers.
Because children need to stop daydreaming,
and focus on their studies.
Because not everyone can be rich and famous,
and it’s impractical to chase after foolish dreams.
Because there is no such thing as “special shoes.”
Because everything isn’t black-and-white, and
standing for what you believe to be good is intolerant,
Because superheroes aren’t real,
girls don't have cooties,
and it was time to grow up.
…and I have.
Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015