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Weasel

weasel whiplashing past my boots flash of tan and cream zipping out of sight chasing a rabbit - maybe no death scream no sound of anything being torn to pieces walk on a pace a fleet rustle in the grass it is hunting again walking on eggshells

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 5/23/2025 9:32:00 PM
hi Eric your poem is interesting. I don't think that there's a wrong poetry. I invite you to read some of my poems and maybe commenting to them only if u want. It's mostly about God so it will be good for your soul. ~Jac---> so that there's a Jac in girls n short for my name bcoz my Jackie was a bad girl.
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