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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#470221voted by our readers
By Felix Hackett BRONZE
Arcata, California
The fog hung heavy, high on the hill In the place that kept me I can see the pink of the roses, still Just as they were as I watched from my window's sill – Red berries move...
Arcata, California
The fog hung heavy, high on the hill In the place that kept me I can see the pink of the roses, still Just as they were as I watched from my window's sill – Red berries move...
