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Apr 2016
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.
Rose Amberlyn
Written by
Rose Amberlyn
314
     naΗ§Γ­ and strawberry fields
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