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Harvest of the Mind

Fallen tree,
Not fallen soul,
Extra smart,
Improved so whole,
A big scarecrow,
In the open field,
Protects my ground,
By this unreal,
The old stone wall,
Crumbles apart,
Fix it up,
And then it starts,
Natural clock,
Sun in the west,
It lasts only hours,
And goes abreast.
Plow my mind,
Harvest my thoughts,
Then take a look,
At what you got.
Unique fence,
It keeps you back,
It's in your head,
As a matter of fact.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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Copyright©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow, Neocortex. All Rights Reserved.

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