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Jan 2015
As the days they slowly turn to weeks,
and your someday softly sullen speak,
the strongest soon become the weak,
as you unearth your broken wheels to leave,
the wagon buckles from the load,
and the cargo falls victim to the undertow,
the river after the melt of snow,
the water runs too deep,
so fast,
too cold,
so pure,
and unforgiving.
Written Nov 8th 2014
Written by
Kurt Schneider  M
(M)   
318
   Prabhu Iyer
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