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Broken Record

My brother’s like a broken record.  He tells me about how we used to bike around the neighborhood pretending we were race car drivers, and how we’d gained multiple knee scrapes from turning the curb too fast. He’ll tell me this story twice, thrice, or even four times in a row, and laugh about the good ol’ days. I laugh with him, because though he doesn’t remember that he’s already told me this story for the fourth time in a row, he does remember the fun we had. My brother’s like a broken record, but I don’t mind one bit.

The Crow and the Star


A crow flew over a park

Looking for a shiny penny.

He searched and searched all day long

But he couldn’t find any.


Disappointed and distressed, 

He started to head back to his nest.

But something glittered on the ground

Filling him with zest.


He flew down to the light

And saw it was a star.

“It’s light is beautiful,” Crow said.

“What a beautiful star you are.”


The crow took the star 

And flew it to his nest.

“I shall keep this star hidden forever.

I shall keep it from all the rest.”


He kept the star in his nest.

He kept it to himself.

The star’s light was brilliant,

But he showed no one else.


As the days went on,

Crow’s happiness waned.

“The star is bright, 

But its brightness is in vain.


“The light is meant to shine

For more people than one.

I must show it not only to someone,

But to everyone.”


The crow picked up the star,

When it was dark at night.

He spread his wings 

And took off in flight.


He flew higher and higher

As high as he could be.

He placed the star in the sky

“Shine for all to see.”


The star shone bright

Brighter than ever before

Crow was very happy.

“The whole world will see it more.”

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