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*frog-In-Pocket*

nostalgia a nine-year old does come to honest by no care for romance, no accompany should the chance occur within that strike that might strike that similar something somewhere that nine-year old out there strides with legs we lost for fumbles in his pocket for a match well he looks away and counts railcars in a blip of a day dream top that while you dollar value your day of late penny for penny in the fumble your hands already were too fat and he beat you for tying his laces *rib-b-it*

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 8/14/2009 1:46:00 PM
This brought a smile! Adorable poem!! Thanks for sharing! ~ Carrie
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Date: 8/14/2009 1:52:00 AM
Thanks Sara
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Date: 8/14/2009 1:45:00 AM
Different. Keep writing. Sara
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Book: Shattered Sighs