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Jun 2016
deep within the mountains
whence my father fled,
there stood a lonely cabin
and the remains of a farmstead.

why he left, I do not know
for there, it was a sight;
the mountains rose to block the sun,
its rays behind their height.

on them dwelt few animals,
yardbirds, cows, and goats,
though I suppose my father tired of
meals made from rolled oats.
Written by
Tecknet  Canada
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