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Poem

It was the summer

when Now and Laters

 

cost a nickel

and The Fantastic Four,

 

a buck.

When I met

 

Harriet Tubman

Poem

Spring is baby,
bright, fresh and new,
gurgling with the melting snow,
singing with the first cuckoo.

Give The Ball to the Poet
Poem

We don' have a Springtime like some folk
Who live in dem colder place,
but we have a time when de soft rain come,
an' tease open de seedcase
o' de poincianna and de trumpet tree,