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Winter’s not yet here so they’re still around
We long for the snow that would send them to ground
If your leg was a peg, you’d be half ok
Just hope they want the right one on that day
You know they’ve found you when you hear that buzzing sound
You could be skinny, or fat and round
As they tuck into that blood so rich
You know you’ve been had when it begins to itch.
poem
by
Brian Roy Skyers
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