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Untitled
October 26, 2015
Old and cold, I grasp my gun--the forest died, froze without sun.
My hands shook. I start to freeze, looked in my scope, a bear to seize.
The weather changed. I was game--the forest died, and my soul cried.
© Thomas S., Portville, NY
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This is written in a Korean Poetic form known as sijo.