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Poetry: Simple refuge

by Edna Harris

My age is so-so can't be sure about nothing. My job was observed and calculated by many.My actions looked upon with a proposal. I counted my days at work because of what I knew and that was getting a make over that would stop a proposal to keep my job. A job that I could count on a job that I could proud of and I could make a living to survire on. Such a simple refuge. I decided to resign.

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