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Shrinking Violet
Poems
Jan 2015
Spring
Trees rearing their boughs in the wind
laughing through rustling leaves,
Water dancing through drain pipes
like gurgling brooks.
The sharp thrill of a far-off bicycle bell,
Whistling blue skies,
Cool stone floors and sun-scented skin:
Soon the world will bring
whispers of spring.
Written by
Shrinking Violet
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