A Spring Day — Remembering Living on the River
A streamful of flowing water,
half the village in flowers:
my old home, the southern neighbor
was a fisherman.
I'll always remember his boat coming in
filled with spring's intoxication,
clouds encaging fading sunlight,
rain hissing on the sand.
half the village in flowers:
my old home, the southern neighbor
was a fisherman.
I'll always remember his boat coming in
filled with spring's intoxication,
clouds encaging fading sunlight,
rain hissing on the sand.
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