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breath
Written Feb. 13, 1998
wandering and wondering
I watch water flowing
down a little stream
that I dug with my own hands
worlds of creation
slip from my view
words of sensation
refuse to come forth
what happened all those years ago?
after so long, can a flower
blossom again?
after so long, can we
become friends?
sun setting in the past
my future looking forward
onward at last
then I breathe again
breath, at last
© Matthew Rutherford 1998
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