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Sep 15th, 2009 | By Sara Brown | Category: Poetry | 335 viewsShe’s calling to me
From underneath the nooks and kettles
Little brown creatures running rampant
Scurrying about
I couldn’t help but take notice
the trees swaying too and fro
“Look Nola, they’re dancing.”
She just giggles
I couldn’t sport a tight lip either
The forest, evoking childlike reaction
For no such action at all.
Just the pure curiousity these woods bring me
And the happiness it brings Nola and I.
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