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Out of the Cold

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Squealing as the wheels turn
Shutting out the wind
And cold
Dust, hay, feathers
And the smell of livestock
Hang in the air
A bleat, a moo and a few clucks
Bounce around the walls
Going wild
At the sight of feed
But when in front of them
It goes quiet
Back to the cold
And biting wind
If only I could stay
In the Barn




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