Distance
The shiny, bending water fell
Into a crystal spray.
Who am I, grown old, to say
It never was that way?
Today the rocks are something small;
The old brook something strange.
Was this a simple waterfall
A dream might rearrange?
There was a longing distance then,
More than the child who saw
A foam's impunity from sin,
A Ripples lack of flaw.
Copyright © Jerrell Jones | Year Posted 2015
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