This poem was written my junior year in High School and was included in my High School Literary Magazine, "The Oracle."

When I was three I broke my arm.
It didn’t hurt too much.
I was proud of my cast and everyone signed it,
When I was three.

When I was five, I stuck my hand in a beehive.
It didn’t hurt too much.
My daddy saved me from those nasty bees,
When I was five.

When I was eleven, I moved away.
It didn’t hurt too much.
I wrote to Sandy and she wrote to me,
When I was eleven.

When I was sixteen, I was quiet and shy.
It didn’t hurt too much.
I hid the pain so no one else would know.
I never knew what I’d done wrong.
When I was sixteen.

JAN 86