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Review
by Rovarsson (Belgium)
A tale of sorrow,
And comfort sought
Between the trees, by mirror pool,
This author has
Intently wrought.
Voice of shade and waters cool.
A ragged rhyme,
I’m out of time,
Ripples close above my head.
The sun is gone,
I have no rock
to cling to here…
Am I now dead?
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