I've been going through long lost academic papers from years past, and happened across some folders containing my endeavors within the realm of literature and poetry. This is one of them that I feel less embarrassed about.
The quiet trickle of the brook
Murmurs of spring's late arrival.
Spring, sighs the bubbling brook,
Is yet to come but for several more months.
Mother earth must wait til she returns to extravagance.
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LOOK AT YOUR 7th GRADE VOCABULARY
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