GOOD OLD DAYS POETRY
Glad winters on the olden farm! How raptures from those early times Commingle into fairy chimes, Which gently banish cries of
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Winters on the Farm
Voilà!
Looking back upon it today, I can only shake my head and laugh at the objects that my mother once helped me sew together. To start with, my mom was a master seamstress. Tucked away in the corner of the master bedroom, she had an old Singer sewing mac
