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Standing In A Grove Of Ancient Oaks
April 27, 2009
(A Haiku Of Memories)
Farm Of My Childhood
I Still Hear Their Whispering
On The Hill Above
Swift Rain Trikles Down
Tall Mountains Whisper My Name
I Am Free At Last
Live Oaks Line The Road
As Fishing Poles Swing With Life
On Glistening Streams
Young Boy's Reflection
Smiling Towards Blue Horizon
Simple, Home At Last!
© Brian M., Fishers, IN
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