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Jack Jenkins
Poems
Aug 2022
Untitled
there's a chill
in the air
its cold
mid july
except inside
where heaters glow
by those who fear
frost's bite
gather round
this quiet town
humble
but cold
your hands will reach
but not quite reach
the edge on which
we all fall down
Written by
Jack Jenkins
28/M/Washington State
(28/M/Washington State)
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