A FARMERS WINTER
In a bare little field,
with nothing to hoe.
Stood one single tree ,
with nothing to grow.
The fruit had all fallen,
the corn had been picked.
winter is here ,
a cold snowy mix.
So off to our houses,
we sit and we wait,
till the feilds can be plowed,
and the fruit can be ate
Wrote by
Theresa Wagner Chase
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