There is a bridge near my home, where the water flows
I sometimes stand and watch, hoping for rainbows
Its cool and liquid journeying,
I like to listen, to it sing
As it travels, beneath that upon, which I stand
I reach down, and let it caress, my willing hand
Its movement, often silken, sometimes rough
Of this fluid jewel, I can never get enough
I forget, about my troubles, woes, and strife
While being, with this liquid, that is life
© Copyright 2016 Arturon Gillespie. All rights reserved.
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