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When the smell of putrid plants
Calls to those inquisitive ants
We wonder what it is they sense
Or is that they’re just so dense
As not to know the mold they taste
Is really only decayed waste
The humans left outside to rot
That time and weather just forgot
Or is that they’re really smart
And find this fruit, sweet and tart
To satisfy their cravings for
Oh! Food, for winter, they will store
I suppose it could be worse than this
They must find mold, their true bliss
September Writing Prompt – Putrid plants and inquisitive ants – Day 27/30
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