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How slow trees grow

How slow trees

I am notnear enough

nearly enough

How slow

       I am told to write

       a biography of my character

          My character is me.

Up north the trees are 

giants         They touch you


A touch on the train.

When I touch I use

   Both hands.

When I am old and dying and someone says you did this

   I will not mind.

How slow

One tree is so large 

    one could drive a bus through

  It is carved open to allow that

  (to carve something open)

When you touch you pass through

     My character is unsure

How slow trees grow

    When you pour cement in the knothole

 To save a life

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