My Toy Bulldozer

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Compfight’s Dashadima

When I was little, I just couldn’t do without my toy bulldozer. Out of my set of building vehicle toys, that bulldozer was the only one I really remember well. It was the most diverse play thing I had set eyes on. It had moving wheels and an operational front that could dig dirt out of the ground and throw it into the plastic little holding container on the back of the toy. It had four wheels that moved on detachable axels on its bottom. While I had it, I wouldn’t ever play with anything else. No bakogon, no Barbie, I loved to construct. I would push the little vehicle around the living room and tread on different materials like concrete and carpet. I had loved to build for as long as I can remember, and this toy was the perfect outlet for that bit of creativity. Without it, I would stop playing all together. I would just sit and wait for my beloved toy the be returned.

Where I’m From Poem

I’m am from my bedroom window,
From slow computers and my canvas,
I’m from a tan and blue walled house full of random items,
With a horrid smelling litter box,
I’m am from the oak tree in my back yard,
The swing set that I remember being to small to mount,
I’m from the animal game and Christmas parties,
From Susan and John,
From late night trips and thanksgiving dinners,
And from watching unintelligible TV shows.
I’m from don’t let the bed bugs bite and always eat your vegetables
and all around the marry go round,
I’m from singing to the words that you don’t know,
I’m from Austin and I’m American, from pizza and soup,
From mom breaking her arm and when she slipped on the ice,
I’m from my grandma’s beautiful paintings, and treasures hiding under my bed for special events.