stormy night :: ilovemartin :: Original Poetry

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stormy night

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Death

Poem Link:

ilovemartin
is hanging out with my big sis

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stormy night

it was a stormy night
He was barely breathing everyone woke-up
He went to the hospital
He died that morning

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.