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                     THE WIND 
       I am the wind, I am the breeze,
       I dance with the leaves, 
      And I play in the trees,
       I twist and I turn,Skip jump and fly,
       Oh,I am the wind, Oh,I am the wind.
       When you and your family, 
        Are out for a walk,
       In the sun, Or the rain, Or the snow,
       I'm always with you,Wherever you are,
       You can feel me, Wherver you go.
       I am the wind, I am the breeze,
       I dance with the leaves,
      And I play in the trees,
      I twist and I turn,Skip jump and fly,
      Oh,I am the wind,  Oh,I am the wind.
      I can make music, Thats gentle and sweet,
      Whistles and chimes,That you hear,
      In the streets of the city,
       And down country roads,
      In the day and the night, I am near.
      I love to paly everyday, Of the year,helping,
      Seasons to come and to go, 
     The flowers and plants,
      Wait for me in Spring,
        To carry seeds to the ,
      Places they go, I am the wind,
      I am the breeze,I dance with the leaves,
      And I play in the trees, I twist and I turn,
      Skip jump and fly,Oh,I am the wind.
                Oh,I am the wind.

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THERE WAS A CROOKED MAN
There was a crooked man,
And he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence,
Against a crooked stile;
He bought a crooked cat,
That caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together,
In a crooked little house.

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A MOTHER'S LOVE
A mother's love is special
It's present everyday
A gift that came from heaven
That God has sent our way
Her job is never ending
She's there all day and night
To be there for her children
And be their guiding light
Her thoughts are with them always
Even if they are apart
Her children have a special place
Deep down inside her heart
Mother's are a special gift-
A gift from up above,
This world would seem so empty,
Without a Mother's love
-T Entzminger

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               TREES
I think that I shall never see,
a poem as lovely as a tree,
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest,
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
a nest of Robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain,
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer-(1886-1918)

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One,two ,three,four,five,
Once I caught a fish alive,
Six,seven,eight,nine,ten,
ThenI let it go again.
Why did you let it go?
Because it bit my finger so.
Which finger did it bite?
This little finger on the right.

Not every truth is the better for showing its face undisguised; and often silence is the wisest thing for a man to heed.~ Pindar