Basil Thorne

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The Garden

Sitting alone on a summer eve,
In a garden, with a cooling breeze,
The sun going down in a golden glow,
The sound of machines in the fields as they mow,


Golden days are days of yore,
Happy days in thoughts we store,
Memories of these times we had,
Looking under rocks for crabs,


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8/3/2021 3:17:15 AM #