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Man-Made

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The corn stalks sidestep the wind with
The blue sky overhead.
Why is corn in line?
Is it waiting
For time to pass,
For time to decline,
Or to dwindle,
Until it`s nothing more than a
Man-made measurement.



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Jessica. said...
Jan. 18, 2012 at 9:11 pm
I cant think of a word worthy of this poem. But since this is the first that comes to mind- I love it
 
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