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Aug 2013
It drops, dangles along
the edge of a deep canyon.
It asks a question.
The crawling river's only reply
is a sad, sweet song.
"Sleep."
Whose echo decays gradually
through the rifts of the canyon
until eventually,
too,
the song is gone.
Alastur Berit
Written by
Alastur Berit  Seattle
(Seattle)   
449
 
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