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Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter

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Written by: Robert Bly | Biography
| Poems
 | Quotes |
It is a cold and snowy night.
The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around I will waste more time.


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