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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1323529
An old oak tree at Grandfathers house was my favorite playground when I was a small child.
My best friend was an old oak tree
I climbed her branches an she embraced me
She shaded our house from the sweltering sun
and gave me a play ground full of fun
Her graceful branches held my swing
and I would swing high and hum and sing
I climbed her branches to the sky
and counted acorns up so high
Moss hung on her like grey curly hairs
and I stuffed moss in cushions on tiny chairs
My table was decorated with acorns and leaves
and my dolly was happy for all of these
I used her leaves for my money
and all my days were bright and sunny
Oh how I love that old oak tree
and I am very sure my best friend loves me


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