Best Poem of Hazel Durham

Butterfly Dance
She drift's around without luggage, living off a blank page
Without family, finding a time to bloom,
Raising her face to the sun,
As it embraces her desire to have fun,
In it's warm rays like her cherry topped days,
Her wild flower grows with a sweet scent,
Of her forgiving ways.



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Beethoven Is On The Number 63 Bus
The traffic is bad
But the soothing, breathing and living music
Of Beethoven is no fad,
The bus stops then starts off with all emotions squeezed here,

The elderly some bent over but their dignity still there,
The exuberant young with life jumping from their eyes,
He drives the bus with his constant . . .
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