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Desperate Times .....

Oh how will the wind blow
In the valley below
The lilies struggle to survive
thirsty for a drop
but, still they are deprived of rain.
Wilted away into a deep sleep they lay.
An outburst of many cries
No land left to plow
or nothing to harvest
starvation has come to haunt
Death were is your sting..
Rosalind written by

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