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The friendships I’d made,
The ones I’ve forgotten,
Feelings of freedom
and ones that turned rotten.
Days spent zipping,
and slipping,
and plunging in puddles.
The laughter, and after,
God only know s the latter
our estranged wonder
could have sought us.
So now when the singing
turns to ringing in our heads,
I know, as sure as time changes,
I shall not forget it. Copyright © TravelDailyLife.com
Form of Poetry
I do not know?
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