singing stream

waterlog;

drifts along a melody of

lonely singing streams;

their tunes of gurgling glee

for they have grown richer

in companionship; some

voices condensed amongst

whispers of a sudden draft;

swoop of breeze- soon after

a child with coffee stained

flesh; his unheard whimper

remains in the dark distance;

for he cries out with a voice

that does not echo the tune;

alike the driftwood; along

this sacred, humming stream

 

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