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RefugeOld man with rubber overshoes Trudging through the snow Muttering to himself Not very far to go Whirling swirling blizzard Under low leaden skies Forcing him to squint Through rime slitted eyes Sound of Christmas music Drifts through the air The Sally Army playing Tells him he's almost there Hands warming slowly curled Round hot mug of chicken soup Old man in rubber over shoes Mingles warily with the group Vote for this poem
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