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The Mound
The Mound
It started way back when I was a child
One cold November night in sixty-four
Old furniture and windfall from the trees
Piled high into a mound of combustibles
Each year new kindling was added to ashes
That had smudged the verdant back garden lawn
Layer upon layer added to the blackened hill
That was gradually growing towards the sky
One year I lo...
Wednesday 2nd September 2020 2:41 pm
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