• Once,
    When I was younger,
    My sister threw my backpack
    Into the street.

    A police officer
    Came by,
    Chewed her out,
    And told her to say 'sorry'.

    He was a nice man.
    I think he was balding.
    I remember,
    Being picked up by him...
    A few times.

    The interior of a cruiser
    Is something
    I became familiar with
    At an early age.

    It was very nice,
    The guy was fun to talk to,
    But he would never share
    His thin-mints.

    He loved Girl-Scout cookies.


    -note:
    *The original poem didn't have a title, if you don't like the title I've come up with (I know I don't), just deal with it..
    *Don't plagiarize or copy without permission from the writer (moi).
    *Comment nicely. : )