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Busted
I like living, inside boxes, warm each day I snoozed away.
Never relenting to sundown, the cold weather made me quake.
But I never complained, about the snow, sleet or rain.
Then thunder was heard, and darkness deep, I have begun to shake.
The roar of natures fury, made me muster courage so fake.
My fear forgot about dread and gave me a great dry thirst to slake.
Waking in a warm yellow lake.
poem
by
John Shea
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