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Tin in September
November 10, 2010
The forgotten road
I took back home
Now is covered with flowers
I'll never know why
No matter how much I cry
The reason for its enduring powers
It draws me in
To a shack made of tin
In my beautiful dreams
I'll always remember
The smell of September
Orange leaves fall to quiet streams
I still hear the sound
Of life newly found
By the sun in hidden woods
Oh, how fast I'd run back
To my old tin shack
In the woods if I could
© Hoang P., Rochester, NY
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