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Thanksgiving MAG
The early morning smell speaks to my nose;
Mom forgot the stuffing, off to the store she goes.
Turkey roastin’ Thanksgiving morn;
Waiting to eat mash potatoes, stuffing, and corn.
The streets look as if it were a ghost town;
The only thing moving is the leaves falling down.
Families gathering around the table;
While our noses are tickled with the smell of maple.
Everyone rushes to bed early to get a good night's sleep;
So they are prepared to get items for cheap.
Early the next morning the streets are buzzing;
As the stores begin flooding
Bodies are close budding together.

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