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Dec 2020
My mind is a forest
Of vast sweeping pine
A continent of conifers
In this head of mine

Contemplation arrives as thin soapy clouds
Silent rivers trickle feeling
In the bush, trails of thought
Go for miles freewheeling

There are no people in these silent woods
No creature makes a sound
This is where I can be safe
In a place I can't be found
This poem is about contemplation and thought.
Gabrielle
Written by
Gabrielle  22/F/New Zealand
(22/F/New Zealand)   
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