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Lexington Poetry Month

The Hills

14Jun2019
POEM
2

When I was young,

we carried coal

from the hillside

and

drank water from a well.

The winters were cold

and  the summers sweltering

but life was simple and serene.

Family was more than

an abstract concept

and

the summer was sweet

with the smell of honeysuckle.

So unlike

the convenient harshness

of today.


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