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Poetry Poem
Friendship
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Brooding Puddles!
In the market of their suffering
The puddles brood,
Cold and wet and dripping
And stinking ripple- rude.
All around there's sunshine
And whispers from the breeze,
And luscious little bird songs
From spring time's fresh green trees.
The puddles lie in waiting,
To one day disappear
And join the clouds above them
Far from their stinking tears!
Joy Weare.
17th March, 2007.
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Brooding Puddles!
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