cool
spring afternoon
rain falling gently through
the trees
a walk to remember
the
indian waits to dance,
fire glowing bright
drums beating like a heart
people
laughing,
late at night
stars and moon gleaming
they've
gone
the children sit alone
no
sky, only darkness
a dream is yet to come
but still teardrops fall
a
lovely thing to see
the flower blooms
Bridget
Lamb
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