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Cinnamon HollySoccer mom cinnamon my soul with the hanging holly breaking the chill from the old man's ire Take your heels off and rest by the fire I am here to pay my due for how you uplifted me in the waning light of this December night Sweet, priceless you, pulled me through like every bow you'd tie Every piece of holiday pie I taste the sweet in you Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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