the brook.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
i was sitting in a park when i noticed a small stream ,and decided i would let the tree observe what was going on in the stream--

Submitted: June 16, 2011

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Submitted: June 16, 2011

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the brook.

a mighty tree of wood and oak, stood in a field beside a brook,that quietly mumoured as it passed, abut its never-ending task---to feed the tree,s, the birds, the grass, the tiny insects,as they passed, the fish that swam in desperate need,to spawn and prosper at her feet---and then she wandered for a while, across some fields quite near a stile, where one old man in patience stood, holding in his hand a piece of wood, to try and catch a shining trout, he bravely waved his stick about---but then alas she to was gone, back to her bed beneath the ground, where she lay and slumbered in a pool, of stalactites, and old toadstools--


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