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Who would believe a snow covered ground After waking from a deep sleep by morning's sounds Rarely a snow flake in this OK town Only a week has passed since into the greens' hole golf balls went down Son first to fire an icy ball Dad running away; careful not to fall After the youngster threw his white round hoard Surprised as heck to see his Dad wield his frozen, round swords Now it was the boys turn to run for cover Now afraid of the snow they just discovered All days should like this This is my prayer. This is my wish. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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