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Moss-Covered Stone

E.B. Bradley

Its been an age since I’ve lived
In the place of my youth.
The place of tall pines
Of cypress trees
Of mighty oaks and white-tailed deer.
I now live in a machine.
An Urban place of smoke and concrete;
The site is unhappy in my eyes.
But not very far from my rented room
Is a moss-covered stone
A glimpse of the green from my youth.
Seeing it makes me smile.

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