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Oh Dear Canal

Rock and dirt,
Along your sides.
Frequented with

Bikers, walkers, and runners.

Tired and worn,
Are you dirt paths.
From miles and miles,
Of traveling done.

Hole and dips,
Have brought me pain.
When each morning,
I continually run.

Smells and noises,
Not always enjoyable.
When I run
At 5 a.m.

Views and sights,
I barely see.
Along your forever
Twisting paths.

Water and fish
Occupy your man-made,
Concrete, wide mouth,
Flowing slowly without end.





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