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A Dreary Walk

Writer: Evelyn CreonEvelyn Creon

An unmarked grave yard.

A gust of wind,

Produced a howling note.

A rusty old gate

On hinges of gold.

Colorless hills,

Betwixt rock wall embankments.

A damaged church,

Near an upgraded track.

A dreary lit sky

A few scrawny trees.

With branches like monsters

That convulse in the breeze.

That's where he went

As he was walking yesterday.

To an abandoned grave yard

With an old church crumbling away.

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