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Jun 2016
My summer was spent under a grand oak tree
We would laugh, we would talk, and throw frisbees
Bugs would crawl over fingers when we sat in the grass
And clovers were plucked as kisses were passed

Our Fall then came, no, seventeen didn't last
That oak grew still, and you stayed in my past
(and get out)
kaycog
Written by
kaycog
301
   Mack, Bleurose and ---
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