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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1300703
Attempted in the language of the slave.
The stream she come a rushin' by
her mouth all open wide,
her voice a babblin' as she goes
and she lappin' at her sides.

Over rock and under limb
she roll on to her end,
each obstacle she push aside
as she travel 'round each bend.

As she roll she talk to me,
she takes my cares away.
I sit and listen to her speak,
her voice be new each day.

Then at night she sing a song
so soft she bring me sleep,
on her waves my mind it roll,
my dreams be nice and sweet.

The stream she come a rushin' by,
the moonlight on her shine.
As I watch her roll along
my mind be lost in time.
© Copyright 2007 Rob G. ~Led by the Master~ (rob2457 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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