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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 19:38:05 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 124038
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Little Boy
[time] => 2006-08-03 08:28:09
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A boy with blond hair that played by the creek. This boy was so small and well kind of meek. He lived on a farm, with two brothers much older. They teased him each day, and that made him bolder. At the edge of their farm was the old swimming place. The three would swim and then they would race. Those days were filled with work and fun. Bailing hay in the field, out in the sun. But when work was over, the cool stream felt great. And Mama had dinner so they couldn’t be late. Those carefree days have past long ago. Where is that little boy now I don’t know? I would love to bring him back today. But now his blond hair has turned to gray. The little boy left, and now you can see. He’s gone forever, for now he is me. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Gentlemanpoet [notes] => (Edited for typo by Mod_11) [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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