Stream - Poem by David Lacey
Strange time it is to sit and think,
All time we are forgetting, (drink)
As silver sliver comes the river
Down the mountains side.
And into folding dreams
The river slowly seems,
To be building new the mountain
At the bottom of the stream.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You