The First Day of Spring Or 6 Weeks Of Winter
A Poem By Connor
In the ground I sleep.
The world awaits
I will not make a peep
It is the date
I see the dang press
They don't want to play chess.
Will I see what I fear?
What might I predict?
Shall all of them cheer?
I feel I might be tricked.
I must venture from the ground.
I hope they don't have hounds.
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