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Louise Joyce Jun 2018
The distance,
Trees swaying in the moonlight breeze,
Cold stones,
Yet warm hearts,
The pack howls from the den in the cliff,
As if they were free souls,
Up the stairs to the humans den,
Danger lurks under the moon,
Pads Prodding on the rock hard floor,
Cracking in the winter nights,
2 pups had died,
2 more to go.
Copyright - Im not telling anyone to **** the pups, I mean they die from natrual selection.

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