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Out of context: Reply #26535
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- SkyPoo0
Winter's Night
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A Poem by Spookytim
In this poem I seek to enlighten 7.34 a little more in the art of poetic metaphor.The wind blows through the ghostly willows,
and snowflakes, freed, all run amock,
And thus I spy your gentle pillows,
Upon which, I wish to lay a sock.- There. I must go and, and... excuse me please.