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Reflection
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8 Line Poems The lame old man sat at the end of the jetty
port, rounded face all covered in fur
a note of sadness within his grey eyes
staring down at the green firs reflected in the water.
This lonesome time gave him time to remember
the site he had taken his wife long ago
past the fields of golden corn, and the fields of red poppies.
Now to spend his last moments drinking gin all alone.
