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May 2015
What became of the bubbling brook
that was once the laughter of my lips
and the tickling humor I always had
and the sassy way I would swing my hips
Where did I go
I cannot be lost in my nitingale dreams
for it has been ages since I've slept it seems
I'm no longer singing in the rains
or flying in planes
to meet my knight in shining armour;
although he waits for me patiently
for even he can see
that I've simply lost myself in grief
It would be so much easier to reprieve
but he's steadfast by my side
waiting for this phase to subside
But I'm lost
and nobody is able to find me
Priya Patel
Written by
Priya Patel  Texas
(Texas)   
291
   Timothy
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