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An Old Poet

stars still shine a wonderful labor unnoticed especially in winter when cold folds us old trees still grow though moss mutilates and branches bend squirrels leap for the joy of leaping ants still scurry delighted by summer fare soda spills melted marshmallows and watermelon skeletons an old poet still needs to write it's his plight precious pen buttering words for hungry readers

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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