Poza Rica, my hometown,
Five generations of mariachi bands
Now sons, daughters, granddaughters, and grandsons playing
Remembering old good days
The days when the master
Picked great shows, hand-claps
And how today those songs are strummed
In the remembrance
Of the master guitarist
Hidden somewhere in this guitar
Is a song

By Adrian, 6th grade
[photo by SeraphimC via flickr]

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