2017 Kids Poetry Contest Winners


Below are the selected winners out of 526 submissions in this year’s poetry contest organized by Young Audiences of Northeast Texas in partnership with County Line Magazine, InSpiritry, Rusk County Poetry Society, and Region 7 Education Service Center. A special congratulations goes to 12th grade winner Claire Simmons for receiving a $500 scholarship from the Rusk County Poetry Society and for winning in six of the last seven years of County Line’s poetry contests. Many thanks to this year’s judges  — professional writers and educators Melissa DeCarlo, Ann Faulkner, Bill Faulkner, Rica Garcia, Ed Garcia, Joyce McGee, Adrianne Pamplin, Justin Robinson, and Carol Thompson — and to all the kids who share their beautiful hearts and minds.

Letters that are BIG
Pages that are really white
Pages that turn back and forth
The cover of the hard book
The soft pages
The new book smell
I feel joyful with books

​Alondra Tejada, Nacogdoches

Bowling Ball
A bowling ball looks like a sphere and is a round ball going down the lane.
The sound of my bowling ball is Boom, bong, slam.
Bowling balls have an oily smell.
Bowling balls taste like gritty dirt and sand.
Bowling balls feel like a smooth round rock.
I hope I get to go bowling!
Joseph Morales, Henderson

Church Festival
The struggles of climbing the rock wall
Food booths
Music playing in the background
Somebody singing
The rough carpet on my seat
The vibrating that makes me shake
Stinky feet…P. U.!
Stinky socks…P.U.!
Cold popsicles… yummy!
The great nachos
I feel like God loves me
Katelyn Jackson, Nacogdoches

The Joy at Disney World Resorts
The wonderful fantasy castle catching my eyes.
My pretty hotel room with sunlight.
The loud fireworks popping in my ears.
Beautiful music when we’re dancing.
The lovely pool water on my body.
My mom snuggling with me in bed.
The tasty wonderful breakfast.
The delicious, yummy dinner.
The good dessert.
The yummy sides with my main meal
I feel the joy at Disney World

​Destinee Chapman, Nacogdoches

I’m Going on a Toad Hunt
I’m going on a toad hunt
to hunt down all the toads
Because snakes will die of hunger
and monkeys eat those
The Cheetahs eat monkeys
and I guess that’s good
Lions eat cheetahs, knock on wood
Bears eat lions but there won’t be any there!
I’m going on a toad hunt
because I’m afraid of bears.
Harrison Chenault, Henderson

Lasagna looks like a pan of delicious warm noodles
Lasagna sounds like popcorn popping as it bakes in the oven
Lasagna smells like an Italian wind
Lasagna tastes as yummy honey
Lasagna makes me feel warm and loved inside
Lasagna is my favorite food
Wren Goode, Henderson

A Family’s Love
My mom and dad’s warming smile that is brighter than the sun.
My mom, dad, brother, sister and I
Sitting around the dinner table
The laughter of my family when I tell a joke
My mom asking, “How was your day?”
at the dinner table
The cozy hugs and snuggles
my family gives me
My mom and dad kissing me goodbye
as I walk to school
The smells of BBQ my dad is making 
The perfume my mom
is putting on before church
A cold glass of lemonade my dad makes with my brother splashing it on my face
The sweet ice cream from Marble Slab Creamery on the weekend.
I feel like the most important kid EVER!
Josue Morones, Nacogdoches

Night Sky
Oh the beautiful night sky 
So smooth and silky 
it looks like a soft velvety blanket 
Ahh, that sweet smell 
Wooo what a wonderful whirly windy night 
The roots of the night sky
run deep in the heart
 Oh the beautiful night sky 
Woa the brightly burning big stars 
The fluffy gray balls of clouds
cover the gorgeous 
night atmosphere like a beautiful whirly relaxing 
Mady Wilson, Henderson

Floating Feathers
Feathers are as light as paper
They can be white, black, brown, or even gray 
They were used for pens back in the day
 Some are light like the sunshine in May
 Some are dark like midnight on the bay 
One is not like any other,
there are so many different colors 
Have you ever seen a feather
from way up high 
I wish I were a feather floating high in the sky.
Aubrey Elledge, Henderson

The Wild Life
Huge trees standing tall above me as if Mount Everest was right in front of me
Little bugs and centipedes on the ground right next to me
Birds singing a lovely tune up in the trees like an orchestra lady at a concert
Me crunching on leaves while I’m walking through the woods
The rough dirt on my hands when I trip over an average size rock
Dewy plants on my legs
The very nasty, smelly mud
I’m living the life of the wild.
David Brown, Nacogdoches

I Am Smart and Imaginative
I am smart and imaginative
I wonder how nature feels about us
I hear animals chittering and chattering around
I see the never-ending battle
between humans and nature
I desire peace between
the smart humans and frolicking animals
I am smart and imaginative
I pretend I’m an artist that makes paint
come to life
I feel the smooth paper moving the images
I touch the paint as it colors me inside
I worry about the future
I cry when left inside the darkness
I am smart and imaginative
I understand how small things
can change lives
I say imagination is the key to anything
I dream the seemingly impossible
I try to make things right
I hope for the bad to turn good again
I am smart and imaginative
Amaris Cerda, Henderson

My Mexican Ranch – The Best Place to Be
The flowers blooming on every tree
Water flowing down the steep, rocky hill
Chicks peeping around me
Piglets going “oink, oink” in their cage
The soft fur of the sheep
My grandma’s warm hugs
The amazing smell of the flowers
The yummy burritos my grandma makes
Refreshing cold homemade horchata
There is no place I’d rather be.
Judith Martinez, Nacogdoches

agile, venomous
spinning, webbing, jumping
eight-legged terror
Daniel Kendall, Henderson 

The Hunt
It was a shady day, a very shady day.
As we went down the dirt road
We could hear her snorting,
Big, furry, round, and mean.
Rattling like maracas
The hog snorting
A gunshot
The job was done.
Caiden Stafford, Henderson

The Painting
One clean sheet of paper,
and a little paint brush
Take my time, take my time, no need to rush
Brush to water, then to paint
Not too much pressure, just a little stain
Stroke up, stroke down, then one long glide
Brush with a smooth, slow rhythm, just let it slide
Stand back and observe, adjust, adjust
Perfection is not a necessity,
but creativity is a must
Now I’m in the zone, I feel so free
Painting is the only thing
that makes me feel like me
One sheet of paper,

now projecting my imagination
I’m very, very pleased with my new creation.
Korian Brown, Longview

Most of My Life
Her eyes,
Like a deep
Pool of love
That I can’t go in
Because I won’t pay attention
To how far down
I’m sinking
Her hands,
Like a warm blanket,
That keeps the cold out
Yet lets the warmth in
That keeps the dark out
Yet lets the light in,
Whenever they touch me
Her voice,
A soft melody
That I hear daily
To comfort me during
Hard times
One that’s music
To my ears
A strong woman
Standing tall above me
I hope to be just like her,
I love her very much
She is the most of my life.
Emily Cavazos, Longview

People Names
We have Calcium in our bones,
Iron in our veins,
Carbon in our souls,
Nitrogen in our brains,
93% percent Stardust,
Souls made of flames,
We’re all just stars with weird
“People names”
Emma Hart, Longview

I am Dyslexic 
I wonder if I can 
I hear “you aren’t trying” and “try harder”  
I see jumbled up letters on my page  
I want to read like the other kids 
I am Dyslexic 
I pretend I can 
I feel I can’t 
I touch my head and wonder
if I still have a brain 
I worry I’m not gonna ever read 
I cry when I feel dumb  

I am Dyslexic 
I understand I learn differently 
I say I can do it 
I dream I read like a pro 
I try thinking of things I can do
when I feel frustrated 
I hope I go to a good college 
I am Dyslexic
Anna Hall, Tyler

Where I Am From
I’m from hog whips from Sullivan’s
And the showbox
I’m from the backroads 
I’m from boots and pearls
And from Stock Show Girls
I’m from the woods,
The grass burs
I’m from the Christmas Tree farm
From dirt, from Momma and Daddy
I’m from the unorganization

And hometown hicks
From burning daylight 
And taking on more responsibilities 
I’m from forgiveness
And Everlasting life
That’s where I’m from
Morgan Doerge, Henderson

Ode to Peyton’s Football
It waits outside in a red tub
A bit worn
Clifton printed on the band
An air-born missile
Spiraling in and out of his hands
Playing with Daddy after work
He wants to be like Tom Brady
It is tiring
Making the ball go whistle,
 slap, pow and thump
At nine-thirty
He has showered
Eaten, brushed his teeth
And gone to bed
Thinking, falling asleep
His ball
An air-born missile
Its fuse burnt out
Is in the red tub
Peyton Clifton, Henderson

Hope of the People
Life and all its aspects
Surround us and influence others.
Give us meaning and spirit
Taken away? Nothing matters anymore.
So let it thrive and become us.
The feelings blossom
Life flowers bursting from the ground.
Beauty, afterwards, is all you can see.
Colors explode, lights dance.
Lift up your hands and decide your fate.
Let it swirl in the wind
Full of hope and compassion
Taking flight in the sky
Clear and blue, pondering what happened.
Then, after that, Happiness can take its hand
And make peace with Death.
Letting us understand.
The Sun and Moon are equal, but different,
Like the rest of the world.
Think, fall silent, and be content.
Because tomorrow is another day
One that will challenge you.
Time after time, once again.
Kate Konrady, Longview

Beautiful, wet clouds quietly flying
Victoria Rodriguez, Henderson

A Stormy Life
I am the grass blowing in the rough storm. 
I wonder if God is
really around me in bad times. 
I hear yelling in my ears. 
I see kicking in front of my face. 
I want to have a peaceful and wonderful life. 
I am the grass blowing in the rough storm. 
I pretend I have a perfect life. 
I feel upset when I feel left out in my family. 
I touch the trembling people’s hands. 
I worry if I’m the only kid
that has had a rough life. 
I cry when I remember my birth mom. 
I am the grass in the rough storm. 
I understand that I act like I’m all that. 
I say words I’m really not. 
I dream that I die at school. 
I try to make my mother smile.  
I hope that I will do good in school.  
I am the grass in the rough storm.
Grace Baker, Tyler

Her Eyes
Her eyes bright as the moon
On a dark night. As beautiful as a spring day
or on a starry night without a moon in sight.
Big brown eyes like a mighty tree standing tall in the forest
But can’t see the one who loves here until he comes and tells
her how he feels about her.
Until then, let her eyes shine so bright.
For now and ever.
Merlin Cooper, Cushing

1st Grade: Day 1
The color leaves your face.
Why are you so scared of this place?
You really shouldn’t worry.
You’re gonna be late unless you hurry.
You creep in through the front door,
And you start to gain your confidence back a little more.
You start walking to your first class.
Children running around all that glass.
Is that Shelly from last year?
People are talking as you try to hear.
The principal walks into the room.
Then that instant you know you are in doom.
You say hello to your fellow peers,
and say goodbye to all your fears.
WHOOSH! There goes a paper plane,
and you have to say no to Shane.

Children are like a bow.
They need to be flexed. Don’t you know?
You are about to start the day,
As a kid comes your way.
She asks if you are new here.
Then you reply “Yes dear”.
Now that the announcements have been made,
It is time to start teaching the first grade.
Olivia Blundell, Kilgore

I Am Not the Person You See
You think you know me
But we are strangers
Because I am not the person you see
I am not a stereotype
Or the mask I wear
I am my past
The places I’ve been
And all the people I’ve met
I am the books I’ve read
The movies I’ve seen
The music pouring through my earbuds
I am my midnight thoughts
And all the things I believe in
You’ll never know me
And I’ll never know you
Because we aren’t made of particles
We are made of moments
Carly Mauldin, Kilgore

Roses are red
Mud is brown
Country music up
Tailgate down
TJ Spencer, Cushing

The Enemy
Bullets whizzed past me at high speed
I peeked out from cover and saw the target
He also saw me 
Before he could shoot 
I ran back to cover
Then I saw it 
The extraction
A huge van
Painted in rust 
I heard the target creeping around the corner
Before he saw me I shot
Five loud thuds against his body
I walked over to him and said “Good Game”
He said the same back
We both laughed as we were out of ammo
I headed over to the table and refilled
Then headed back onto the field
Ryan Thomas Beddingfield, Kilgore

Billions of people
Wrapped around technology and celebrities
What we don’t see is
We are 1 of the only living things
We are on a floating rock
In the nothingness we call space
Spinning around a ball of fire
Spinning around a prison
So dense nothing can escape not even light
Yet we are so wrapped in our own ways
To notice
Too wrapped up
To think past
Little green things with big eyes and head
Abby Reeves, Cushing

Behind My Eyes
Behind my eyes you may not see it
But there is
Behind my eyes I dig through my thoughts
But for some reason
I just can’t find it
Behind my eyes there is darkness
My soul is so dark and depressed
And in my heart there is a big black hole
I search and search but I just can’t find the light
Behind my eyes I see it
There is a glimmer of light
I have to run to it
Behind my eyes I run to the light
Darkness tries to grab me every chance they get
Then right before the light I see the greatest darkness behind my eyes
My mother’s death
I see myself at the age of five
I see her in the car lying down dead
As I’m in the back afraid with barely a scratch
Behind my eyes I try to fight it
I cry and cry I just can’t beat it
I will never be able to enter the light
Dalton Leutwyler, Cushing

The Flowers
Oh dandelion, oh dandelion,
How you swing in the wind.
You’re the prettiest thing in mankind 
Besides the sun coming over the horizon.
Oh rose, oh rose,
Your beautiful, majestic, petals.
Butterflies and stinging nettles,
My love for you tenderly grows.
Oh sunflower, oh sunflower, 
How your speckly seeds grow to my heart.
It’s sweet that you and the sun never look apart.
Your gracious shade of color glistens every hour.

Oh daisy, oh daisy,
Your beauty will never perish.
So I will forever cherish,
How much you look like heaven, it’s crazy.
Oh Indian paintbrush, oh Indian paintbrush,
Your colors go together, 
More than me and my twin brother.
And more compassionate
than any of my crushes.
Abby Hattaway, Kilgore

I’m a hurricane 
I don’t belong to a city
I don’t belong to any man 
I am a wanderer,
A one night stand 
Here I stand alone
Erasing everything in my path,
If you look into my eye you will see my past
You will see serenity from the disaster I have caused
I am a hurricane; master of destruction;
Beautiful in many eyes but a history of pain
Jaylen Mitchell, Cushing

I Am
I’m the sound of screeching tires on the road,
The animal I resemble is a small mouse
Running from an owl,
Except with me I’m running from life,
I’m the song that’s trying to be made,
But can’t find the right lyrics,
I’m a big fat ugly zero,
That wants to be a one but can’t get there,
I am the banged up car in the junk yard,
I’m the messed up couch
That the white fat girl sat on and broke ,
I’m the first piece of bread,
That everyone touches but never really wants
I’m the squeaky clarinet,
I’m the place where there is nothing but graffiti and broken glass,
I’m the flower that is beautiful from afar
But when you get close you see it’s ugly,
I’m the tree that’s getting set on fire,
I’m afraid of tomorrows,
Behind my eyes I’m hiding this great big,
Brittany Sanches, Cushing

You don’t look like them.
You don’t have what they have.
You don’t talk to the same people. 
You don’t have their personalities
so you change. 
You strip yourself bare of every flaw
you come across to be like them. 
You lowly slice away your external being,
to be like them.
The need to be the same spreads inside of you like a wildfire,
burning everything in its path. 
But at the end of the day, 
you look at the unknown creature
staring back at you,
and you realize that it’s too late to change.
Too late. 
Ciaira Guyton, Kilgore

The Woods
The woods whisper to me in the night
Stories, they tell, of life and death,
Beauty, Pain.
The woods hint at more than we could ever imagine.
A world full of species upon species,
Each life with their own story,
From the tiniest creature to the largest beast,
From the smallest weed to the most beautiful tree.

The woods depict an amazing picture.
Complete with all the charm and mystery
one could hope for.
Finished with all the joy and sorrow
that even the best artist could never paint.

The woods are overflowing with stories.
You can chop down the trees.
You can hunt out the animals.
But you will not take their stories,
For the woods are a book that will never be burned. 
Madeline McCrory, Kilgore

Hunting is my thing 
I like it more than I like to sing.
Whether its deer, hogs, bears,
rabbits, squirrels, dove, or ducks,
I sure like trying my luck.  
It makes me feel like a man.  
I am a big fan.
Zachery Newman, Cushing

Bo Bates
I came into the office
My father spoke the
Words I cannot bear
“Bo was in a wreck
Bo is gone.”
Bo is gone. 
The pain rips me apart
It was like losing a brother
Now a brother in my heart
Bo is gone. 
The pain swells up inside
I cannot hold it in anymore
He was always by my side
Bo is gone. 
The pain continues to spread
Like an unstoppable virus
But I keep it all in my head
Bo is gone
My father spoke the 
Words I cannot bear,
“Bo was in a wreck
Bo is gone” 
Cerenity Exline, Kilgore

The Life of Mom
Shrieking sound of tears are
Heard from down the hall;

I jump out of bed with a slump;
Searching for the screaming

When the noise ends and
I fall back in bed, I hear
The rage of the alarm,
Ringing somewhere.
Up again I rush to the kitchen
To flip on the stove and
Prepare the feast
With a sizzle of bacon and pop, pop of grease;

One by one, foot by foot are heard;
Coming to attack the fresh, fried bacon.

By the time six tummies are full;
Here comes another, larger than before;
It shakes and scuffles,
Making all types of sounds;
It wants breakfast; it needs it now!

When breakfast is finished,
Just the first meal of the day.
I don’t know how I do this each day?
But I know in my heart;
That there is no trade for
Love or for passion,
That a family can bring.
Madelynn Crow, Tyler

The Soft Blow of Wind
The soft blow of the wind, 
Flows free  through my hair,
I’m going to Big Bend.
The rock under my feet,
The sun burning my skin, 
Soft with light,
It’s beginning to turn night, 
And as the sun falls,
I get a chill feel,
I have to go now, my parent calls,
But there is one flaw, 
If I go to their call, 
I’ll never see the mountain standing tall, 
I see it now and that is all
Skylar Hickman, Woden

All Bright Under the Sun
All bright under the rain 
so glowing under the spirit’s
I spot sinning claws on the flock
Dig it! The boy must continue
All mournful in the world
I saw flying goats against the land
Be aware! The night will come as fast as light
All bright under the rain
I walk with scary disasters under the trees
Tighten up your shoes! The boy must continue
darkening hungry 
where the light comes from 
a trace of sadness 
With what memories 
the witness 
come singing 
remembering old times
Joseph Ramirez, Woden

It’s Too Late
She’s blind…
She can’t see the world plunging beneath her,
The Earth caving in.
She’s deaf…
She can’t hear the world warning her,
Screaming to stay back.
She’s mute…
She can’t tell them that she doesn’t know what’s going on,
That she’s confused.
They’re blind…
They can’t see her world
plunging beneath her,
The Earth caving in.
They’re deaf…
They can’t hear her cries,
Screaming for help.
They’re mute…
They can’t tell her
that everything will be okay,
Because it’s too late …
Gracie Martinson, Tenaha


First World Problems
Here are my problems as they appear–
A soda with too much ice,
An iPhone that seems to have lost all life.
A cashier that takes too long to return my penny of change,
And a Big Mac with pickles
instead of tomato slice–
Oh why is life such a pain.
I know others have it worse,
But the ending of Lost was as useful
as a dead horse.
And I realize
That there are people who starve
But what am I supposed to do
When Sonic gives me tots instead fries?
I suppose I could stop complaining
But what else would I say,
For me it’s always raining.
Oh, it looks like I’m running out of time,
The Kardashians are about
to come on at nine.
Mikel Feliciano, Longview

Music is like the Wind
Music is like the wind
You can feel its effects
but it chooses not to be seen;
You can hear it rush
through crowds of people
Like a breeze through the trees.
And if you ask me who I want to be,
I’ll tell you
Music lives in the heart of every being
So let me use my talent
to express its true meaning.
Sarah Koop, Tyler

What Love Means
You see her around,
You think she’s hot,
You do not know,
She thinks she is not.
You smell her hair,
You say, “You smell good,”
You don’t know,
What she silently wishes you understood.
You touch her hand,
You think you’re in love,
You do not know,
She’s never been loved.
She says to you,
“Why can’t you see?
I hate myself,
And I can’t comprehend.
Why do you love me?”
You say,
“Why can’t you tell,
You are beautiful,
To everyone?”
You say, “I love you,
Do you love me?”
She says,
“I don’t know,
What does love mean?”
Gabby Cupp, Elysian Fields

A girl is a sunflower
Standing tall as she
Turns her face to the sun.
She finds sunshine wherever she goes
Her lips are as soft as petals,
Her eyes big and brown
The breeze silently cheers her on
And the crickets serenade her.
The grass tickles her feet
One day she’ll grow
And see more of the world
That belongs to her.
The clouds watch over her, and
Cry so that she may grow.
Standing steadfast in a storm
Or dancing in the wind
A girl is a sunflower
And she is grounded in her roots.
Malis Dachelet, Woden

River in the Distance
I can hear the roaring water
The splashing of the rocks
Water spraying the sides of the landscape
Digging the soil beneath its wake
I can feel the river in the distance

Next to the edge, I begin to walk in
My waders on and water up to my knees
The river has slowed
becoming so nice and peaceful
Casting out for a trout, hoping I get one
Only to see the river in the distance
Dreaming of the day I can walk once more
Just to get near the river’s shore
Seeing the trout and salmon
 jumping every which way
Moving up shore for a new home for spring
If only I could see that river in real life
and not in my dreams
One last cast is all that I ask
I thought I would go back
after I took off this cast
If only I knew this would be my last time
To see the river
So beautiful and divine
As I sit with the cabin to my back
and with my morning cup of joe
Thinking about all the times that we had
All I ask is for my grandchildren
to see the world
Especially the one of its own
The river in the distance
Dawson Cunha, Beckville

The Language of the Soul
As my fingers grace the keys,
As the strings are coerced to ring,
Music, Measure, Melody.
Of darkest nights and deepest seas,
Of brightest skies and feathered wings,
Of many different things it sings.

Heat of Summer,
Green of Spring,
Leaves of Autumn,
Winter’s Sting.
Requiem or Fantastique,
To me the Music seems to speak.
Not simple words or human vocation,
But with the soul’s own elucidation.
It speaks of Love,
It speaks of Grace,
It speaks of Pain, Distress, and Plague.
A conduit of raw emotion,

I pour my Heart into it with devotion.
My Music is my jubilation.
My Harmony is my Communication.
Korbin Davis, Longview

The Journey
The starting line awaits
Music slowly begins to flow
throughout my ears
My journey has just begun
Feet begin to crisscross at an opposite pattern
The speed begins to pick up
Darkness is all that is near
except for the few light poles around
The feet continue to pound
at the hard concrete surface
The tempo of my breathing begins to increase
In through the nose
and out through the mouth
The heartbeat continues to function
at a rapid cadence
Cold air conjures the ghostly breath
out of my body
My leg strength begins to diminish
I must not stop
The finish line is close but seems far
Breaths flow in and out rapidly without control
Sweat beads have begun to drip across my face
The feeling in my feet is of nothing but pain
In my face appears the finish line
Just a few more steps

I slowly pass the line ahead of me
The strenuous journey
has finally come to an end
My feet slowly come to a halt
Now the journey is over
Strength is finally regained
Now I wait for my next journey ahead
Jacob Watson, Beckville

The Wind Blows
The wind blows through the trees.
Telling stories of where it has been
and what it has seen.
The wind tells the tree of the people it has met.
The wind whistles like a bird
and is as soft as feather.
The wind picks you up
and sets you down on your feet.
It runs through clouds and hits the ground
and moves the land.
But the wind does not speak
of how lonely the sky can be.
At times, the wind has only itself
to converse with.
The wind is ever so lonely,
so he reaches down to tell the trees
Of distant land and beautiful people.
The wind talks about wavy waters
that wash upon the shore
And the great, ginormous green hills
and the green leaves turning brown.
With all the trees and animals
the wind is still lonely.
The wind can come and go when it wants
but when it is gone,
The wind is alone.
Jamie James, Woden

It’s About Love
That sound,
that sound of Canon in D,
as you play the violin with a broken string,
that sound holds a whole new meaning,
beyond the scratches and screeches,
I can hear it,
it’s about Love.
That sight,
that sight of an upturn
at the corners of your mouth,
looking at you now I finally see,
with fresh eyes a smile really wipes a soul clean,
not politeness or white teeth,
I can see it,
it’s about Love.
That feeling,
that feeling of rested butterflies
and four o’clock cups of tea,
holding hands and brown eyes
make lines easily read between,
these extraordinary daily routines,
it’s not boredom or resigned fatigue,
I can feel it,
it’s about Love.
Claire Simmons, Cushing

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