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Happy New Poetical Year
The wind doesn't know where to go,
blowing through the grey layers of hay,
painting the sky; new scenery coming by.
Confused and half-portrayed,
the birds forget where they laid
their eggs,half-hatched,with moving legs....
blowing through the grey layers of hay,
painting the sky; new scenery coming by.
Confused and half-portrayed,
the birds forget where they laid
their eggs,half-hatched,with moving legs....
