Poetry (see Also Stories In Verse)
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Like taxis at curbside
they're waiting for hire.
Does nobody need them
to put out a fire?
A hydrant-like doorman
in red, buttoned up,
regards with suspicion
an innocent pup.
On days when it heatwaves
us kids scamper out
in swimsuits. Then hydrants
unscrew, spurt, and spout.
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Little you
little wonder
Little wish
gentle thunder
You are mighty
you are small
You are ours
after all