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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:52:24 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 64249
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => an autumn game of sorts
[time] => 2004-09-18 16:45:32
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => the wind blows softly through the trees on the breeze drifts down the golden leaves and on those leaves the riders fly in their clothing made of bark laughter fills the air a circle of on lookers no larger then my fingers dance and sing while watching the racers fly down with the winds help circling round the old oaks before landing eliqently on the frosty earth it is difficult to tell who has won for it seems they keep no score and then their off again at the tops of the trees jumping on to new leaves flying down again with their laughter and their songs pushing the wind which pushes them on their way back around anchent oaks towards the frozen earth. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 273 [topic] => 40 [informant] => Rain [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fantasy )
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