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Poem Children of The Storm


blue body of water with orange thunder

Oh, we the insane!
Those with some sense,
take their clothes off the fence.
They run in the house,
to get out of the rain

Oh but not us.
We throw open the windows.
Run out of doors.
We go flying down highways,
and running through moors.

God bless those who love us.
Oh, for they need it more,
than those who love others,
who also stay out of storms.


Minitroubadoura 2019

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