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Jun 1
Somewhere in a meadow
Beneath the rows of fielded corn
Between the sky, above a water way
Where a million tiny ears are born
And listening to the winds of voice
To the cackle of crows driving away a hawk
Living there, somewhere amongst a meadow seeded
Are a thousand, growing, listening stalks
All born to stand, but not to walk
It's no crime to stand. Not all are meant to walk.
Seanathon
Written by
Seanathon
412
   Brandy
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