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Poetry: To the Spot

20150605_165317

To the Spot

In this spot I come.

Flies buzzing.

Bees humming.

Children Splash

Boy fishes.

Dead mouse at the bottom of the pool.

Old slide in slow rapids.

Peaceful down at the Y,

the forks of 2 streams.

I come to this spot.

Like my mother before.

The same thought in mind.

Take the kids to the creek.

So I can have some peace of mind.

C.C. Farmer

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