by Christina Johnson

Created on: November 18, 2008

The river that windes describing life, cutting through layers of sand and ice.

Carried along a pebble on the way, Alone in the current, going where it it may.

Gently floating passing by, upwards and downward ground and sky.

Seasons changing but a pebble it stays, a life without meaning of it grinds away.

The oak tree that passes over head, a new grassy landing around the bend.

Over the falls as time passes by, pushed through the sand ground smoothe over time.

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