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May 02. 2025
I once stood tall, with leafy pride, but now I rest, my rings inside. By fire I'm fed, by axe I'm split, on forest floors, I sometimes sit. I'm not a frog, yet I still croaked, What am I, once part of oak?
May 02. 2025
I once stood tall, with leafy pride, but now I rest, my rings inside. By fire I'm fed, by axe I'm split, on forest floors, I sometimes sit. I'm not a frog, yet I still croaked, What am I, once part of oak?