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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1695348
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1695348
a short poem about moving on
Turn the page

I do not look to you.
Or what you say to define me or who I am.
It's far too late for that.
The water has risen and washed that bridge away.
I look to me.
I swim upstream for who I know I can be.
If there is anything new to say,
I hope to say it.
And speak of what I've seen.
If not, I hope to repeat the old and sage.
It can't be said too often.
Nor said too softly on the stage.
Life goes on, and far too quickly.
Turn the page.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1695348