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Rose Amberlyn
Poems
Apr 2016
with the fishes
I sit on the stand-still lake,
Running my hand through the water.
I see the fish swim below.
Completely dry,
I'm merely floating.
And here comes the wake.
The rippled rush.
I'm submerged.
Down I plunge to the bottom.
Sitting in the sand.
I hold my breath.
Written by
Rose Amberlyn
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strawberry fields
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