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Crow

The black smugly crow Its slack ugly glow Playing valve to mornings flow Banging it hard on my gait slow Perched on crumbling parapet Its no humans pet Its voice is little heard I suppose In myriad busy urban climes That hosts many clumsy chimes Yet it seems to know Me just too well It puts its voice up to sell To me every sunny morning As I fight my canny yawning Ankur

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