Upon an arctic hill,
where the twilight shone,
there stood a walrus,
tusks both gone.
Silver light caught
on the gaps,
and all who passed
beneath the hill would
gasp-
and the creature who
missed two essential
parts- as the days
grew on- what he had lost-
returned. On a day mid may-
when the sun was bright and
the air was lively-both tusks grew
in-and the village cheered timely.
-Jenna
(just a random poem.)
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