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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:08:44 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 176809
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Child
[time] => 2013-09-02 15:54:08
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Fast fell the furious rain on the cold crumbling cobble stones The sound almost like that of beaten, battered bones. This child cold and cast out, tired and hoping The cold clings like a clasp as the girl goes groping. Trying to find someone merciful and some place dry When all is searched and none is found she begins to cry. A gentleman hears and hastily hurries to take pity For he knows that he lives in an unkind city. “What do you need dear child?” He inquires. “A good night’s sleep that’s all I desire.” “And you shall have it for sure!” He exclaims “Sir surely you have saved my small life!” She proclaims Together they take leave of the silent slums of slime and damp No longer will she live by the light of a street lamp. For now she has a home. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 156 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Sherlock [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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