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July 2025
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A poem for Nicky

We’re reading Where the Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein, and came upon this great poem:

THUMBS

Oh the thumb-sucker’s thumb

May look wrinkled and wet

And withered, and white as the snow,

But the taste of a thumb

Is the sweetest taste yet

(As only we thumb-suckers know).

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