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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#443431voted by our readers
By Anonymous
Driving up to school, we see the fog roll in. The crisp air, suffocating rejected by my lungs. The frost on the pine needles and grass from frozen over dew. Robbins coming out...
Driving up to school, we see the fog roll in. The crisp air, suffocating rejected by my lungs. The frost on the pine needles and grass from frozen over dew. Robbins coming out...
