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CHILDHOOD PLAINS
#WritcoPoemPrompt10
Rickety, rick, rackety rack,
The train sings a song on its old track,
We swing with its tune,
Swaying and bouncing a moment too soon, side by side up and down,
Through the journey we drown,
in memories of late years gone.

Not the first or the last am sure,
Our number one guide was pure,
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