Death is But a Dream

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Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream….


I find myself afloat,
drifting soundlessly in a lazy summer stream
as the sun smiles down.

Swimming,
that unnatural struggle against the caress of the currents,
isn’t necessary.
The stream knows my desires and I know hers.
We coexist, becoming one body.

(Completed in purchased version of "Herban Poetry")

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