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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#395621voted by our readers
Zukor Park MAG
By Daniel Weiner SILVER
New City, New York
I rode the bike I outgrew long ago, To golden hour, on local road. With lens and paper, light and ink, I saw the doe, she saw me – I think.
New City, New York
I rode the bike I outgrew long ago, To golden hour, on local road. With lens and paper, light and ink, I saw the doe, she saw me – I think.