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Jan 2019
Cast upon the steel of frozen rivers
was the cascaded ebbs that be.

Harmony on hill and boughs
blow about in wind that I can't see.

Edging on the hills
were trails carved of old.

I wish I was a King from the east.
In the west, I wish I had his gold.
T R S
Written by
T R S  29/M
(29/M)   
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