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Thursday, May 7th, 2009 02:04 am
The lot on the corner, the one all choked with weeds,
Queen Anne's lace and dandelions, scruffy patchy grass,
Was filled with fun and laughter.
Huddled twisted green things dropped their starving seeds
There to lie unnoticed and watch the summer pass,
And fall and winter after.

There in the morgue of foliage, the grave of vegetation,
A pick-up game was always played every summer day.
The game was its own reason.
All day long on most days, 'til school would end vacation,
Then Saturdays until the snow took the field away
And hid it for the season.
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