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wet land

the plinking, pinging of rain at night
redounds the silence of memory's sight
the liquid essence of cloud's release
mirrors man's tears with no surcease
the dripping, plopping in pools of rain
gather together like puddles of pain
moisture gathers in morning mist
the fog of sadness's forlorn kiss
dew rests softly in the morning sun
brings no relief from midnight's run
as water flows toward the sea
a river of tears flow from me

© 2014 ajwrites57
A Long
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