Waimarino shape poem.
Waimarino,
Water park
smelling the fresh air,
kayaking in the freezing cold,
avoiding falling into still river,
shivering as the rain fell upon us,
pulling myself up to the bouncy tramp,
"ahhhhh", as Sattori blobbed me into the icy lake,
running to the next activity to be first in line,
jumping onto the humungous square just sitting on the river.
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