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// Untitled 
// Story: What I Did For Summer Vacation 
// by Typewrittensoul 
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Grey, barren, flat land,
That is what a rock farm is.
No smiles or laughter.

Moving rocks northward,
By nudging them with my nose,
Dad gets paid for this?

My sisters and I
Would play "I spy" together.
It's always a rock.



Mom used to smile lots,
When Granny Pie would visit.
Now we visit her.

I'm no longer scared
By things that bump in the night;
I throw pretty hard.

Since she broke her hip,
Granny Pie can't visit us.
Her baking's awesome!

Dad told a joke once.
"Why'd the rock cross the road? It's
not sedentary."