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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 13:45:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 31192
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => no title
[time] => 2004-01-09 17:12:37
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Along a dusty country road running between lines of old oaks the dust gets into my sandles flirting between my toes. Off in the distance the lonesome cry of the train rounding the bend how things have changed over the years an old house or two still stand. Walk around the grassy banks of the lake where we used to play swimming in the crytal waters to cure a summers hot lazy day. Old tire swing still hangs in the tree rope worn from weathered years its as if we are still swinging there yet today there is a ghost on that swing in the wind. Once in awhile I think I hear echos of voices on the wind looking round I know its not so its only the call of the breeze in the trees. The bridge across the river is now tattered and worn wont see a person driving across it now on a horses nor in a car. Houses that used to be grand as can be with music and laughter filling their walls now lonely old and bare sadly the lonesome dove calls. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lonesomerose [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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