Love Is the Stream
Love is the stream as it begins
As spring, pouring from hills’ side,
Floods in its pale path, winds under
Sharp-cut banks, love tells
In consonants its later song, flows
Truest as all true love drives,
Where time demands a time
For singing, love revives and quells
In promises beneath shade trees,
So it slows, considering next moves,
Wanders, affection without haste,
Ages into river, gently,
Believing in its calm to come,
Tranquil, tranquil, free moving at idle
Pace, not losing its identity,
This love is ours: We are the sea.
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