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Sep 2012
I don't fancy the wind.
It listens and bends as I move through it,
but
There is no strength in a breeze, and its kisses blow away in the gusts.
No, give me a creek to caress me, to wet my skin.
To understand my tears, to lull me to sleep.
Written about Clear Creek in Golden.
Jesse E
Written by
Jesse E  Golden, CO
(Golden, CO)   
709
 
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