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Poem: Clara


The forest is filled with life alien to me

Unpleasant things buzz around me harshly

Their view of me altered by their alien eyes

I must be careful not to step in the mud

Liquid reminders of thunderstorms

Which once rained down upon these woods

Perhaps these puddles shall remain

Gathering more creepy crawlies to their cool depths

Or perhaps they will dry on a warm spring day

Whatever the case I am comforted

For I shall always find shade here on a hot summer day

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