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CR 215
January 25, 2010
Never once have I seen
A police race by or an ambulance, or a fire truck,
But yet I hear the sirens of all.
Once or twice will a car pass by,
And the horn of the trains wakes my sleep.
The gunshots during the fall
And the birds and bugs whistling in summer.
I like the quiet noise it makes.
It’s just right for me,
This small little road.
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this poem really captured what i think about my street