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A poem
It’s that time of year
After the holiday cheer
That my loving poor sister sheds a few tears
The car trunk fills up
As my parents steer
Me to a good education 4 hours from here
Every semester it happens the same
I must say goodbye to my home in which so comfortable I became
Bittersweet hugs and any sadness I abstain
For this ritual happens so often there’s no point for the rain
And don’t you worry your little heads
It’s a good place that you send
Where I indulge in good learning and great lifelong friends
(And I especially miss it after having been immersed within the Argentinians)
So goodbye to my home, this won’t be the end
Whitman, it’s been long, but here I come once again!-
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