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A poetry Web site
worth reading.
Indian summers turn to rain and cold.
Then the northern winds begin to blow.
Squirrels forget what acorns they’ve sown,
and changes will happen to me, I know.
Your love keeps the cabin fire aglow.
You’re the flower that seems to grow
through the layers of the ice and snow.
Keep in Touch
This Web site is copyrighted © 1998-2005 by Michael Hall

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