Published in
1 min readDec 29, 2016
Untitled
There’s a river that runs through their town and beside the river they’d lay,
Recounting the years that’d passed, with little or nothing to say
And like the river meandered gently
Sharpening stones to flint,
What crossed their minds wasn’t the things they’d done but sadly, what they didn’t.
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This is part 1 of the nature series.