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  October's Child


The Brook

I heard you from a distant place.
Your gentle rippling
would that I could be
 freely moving without care

I come here often.
Cloudy days, moody days, sunny days,
My being reflects these changes,
As wandering scenery

Someday, there'll be the blending
As time erases the lesser things
Of life's highs and lows,
and things will just be

Until then, I'll simply just drift
Like a pebble,
here and there, aimlessly
As I keep moving
Like sunshine in many seasons



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