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The Student MAG
January 16, 2011
Atop the hill she sits alone;
An old collard that has been sown,
Her leaves now long and green have grown.
Another hour becomes a blur;
One more day lives the connoisseur,
The old crop on the hill is her.
© Anonymous
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This article has 1 comment.
writer3499 GOLD said...
on Sep. 4 2012 at 8:20 am
WOW this is really great! Beautifully writen! Loved every single word!
