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In the Place That Kept Me This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By Felix H., Arcata, CA

The fog hung heavy, high on the hill
In the place that kept me
I can see the pink of the roses, still
Just as they were as I watched from my window's sill –

Red berries move in 'round them, come June.

The way was simpler there, and sweet
In the place that kept me
Time rolled over in the winding street
It waved and shook like the golden wheat –

The wheat grows thick on the countryside.

St. John's wort curled against the wall
In the place that kept me
The black bird's feathers would loosen and fall
In the evening when he came to call his call –

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