The Moving of the Year

One day I'm here, the next I'm not

For Intel has moved us to a new spot

In state far from where I've grown 

A new adventure does intone 

And the new high school now feels like a jot. 


For no one knows me as of yet

And you can bet that I am hard to forget

And will make myself known 

And will try not to condone  

Those of whom I have not yet met.  


For they may become a friend

And I guess that it all will depend

On if I have the courage to stand 

And hold out my hand 

To those in whose personalities I therein may blend.

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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