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By George Salamon

We planned a three-day trip,
A father, two friends, and I.
We divided the distance and divided the time.
But when should we go? Let’s go in the fall.
The heat is gone and there is no snow.
We walked and walked like getting a prize—
No prize, but fresh air and good exercise.
At the end of the trip it started to rain
But we were lucky and got on the train.
We arrived, here our trip will end—
To our surprise we could not stand.
Our brain gave the order to our legs to go
But the answer of our legs was, “No.”
We all agreed that the trip was great;
Still, we had trouble walking to the gate.

© 2022, George Salamon. The text, images, and audio and video clips on this website are available for limited non-commercial, educational, and personal use only, or for fair use as defined in the United States copyright laws.

Tags:   george salamonechoes of memory, volume 14

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