Anna Auel
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well...the salmon was goodA Poem by Anna Auel |
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traffic & weather on the eightsA Poem by Anna AuelA poem I wrote for my brother as a wedding gift. |
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pull by the rootsA Poem by Anna Auel |
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the new frontierA Poem by Anna Auel |
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Was that 4-4-4-4?A Poem by Anna Auel |
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tripping over the nightlightA Poem by Anna Auel |
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Amper(stand)A Poem by Anna Auel |
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Leashes Lead to Rub BurnsA Poem by Anna Auel |
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caution: hazardous materialA Poem by Anna Auel |
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