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The wind told its song,
And rippling blue pleasures danced my way.
I dove head first and did not look--
Swimming, stroking towards heaven's door.
A wave of content.
A current of peace.
Disturbance.
The wind heightened its hum in sporadic bursts.
Rapids rushed, breaking calm.
I struggled in panic to the bank--
Knowing, feeling the song was through.
A wave of anger.
A current of regret.
Sleep.
© Copyright 2007 asylum_goddess (UN: asylum_goddess at Writing.Com).
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