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May 2015
Stone,
You don't break me
or push me into place.

The wind and I will watch you,
Run right over you.

My streams will flow from your faucet face.
I can't drown a stone,
but you'll wither away,
dry sharp sediment
coarse little grains
and the winds
will throw you, dust,
into decay.
Margrett Gold
Written by
Margrett Gold  moon
(moon)   
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