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Grandpa
March 6, 2011
The palm tree rustles in the wind,
My grandpa lifts me as high as the branches,
He gently sways side to side,
The sand squishes between his feet,
Standing strong planted to the ground,
Inside the palm trees are rings of age,
Inside him memories and wisdom of his days,
Playing with me in the ocean waves,
Singing songs and humming always,
On the Florida beach, I love to be,
Mostly because my grandpa’s with me.
© Anonymous
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