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Apr 2017
The little lass basks in the sun,
Her face caressed by the grass,

But she flails about, thrashes about,
When the day’s one torrential downpour,

The little lass, bare-footed, stands,
Oh, is she a lass? *No more.
A woman recollects her idyllic childhood days outdoors.
Written by
belle
309
   Lior Gavra
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