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(poem 91)

by Vivian Chinelli

I am an ant, as you can see.
You don't often think of me.
But when you walk my way I wish
that you don't step on ...

He was once an ant but
now he's dead. 
He didn't want to die.
Little busy ant, I'm sorry you're gone.
I didn't mean to kill you.  Bye.


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