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"The Lake" By Glenn Emery 8 years old, 2000
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Pine trees sway in the blustery wind,
The fierce gale hitting my cheeks,
The frozen ice slipping under my feet.
An island in my view.
Circling the lake
Are cabins with light in the windows.
Thick, gray smoke coming out the chimneys.
I can hear chickadees hidden in the trees,
Wind rustling against my ears.
I can smell the wintery, green pines,
I can taste the snow on my tongue,
I see the clear, grayish ice under me.
I feel cozy under my coat,
The nice feeling of being alone.
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