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Babbling Brooks
When the clouds’ part and the sun does rise,
A glimmer of hope felt for my treasured prize.
Vast above the sky shimmers blue,
Forever in search for a heart pure and true.
Over rolling hills, farms and babbling brooks,
Through glimmering eyes and dazzling looks.
To the horizon they dream and leer,
Forever trapped in what is ever so near.
So far from the feathers of my soft, warm bed,
Nothing but the hard ground to comfort my head.
The big expanse of the night’s sky,
Shows the tears from love’s lost eye.
How I miss my home and Mate,
Every day I wish for Yesterday’s forgotten Fate.
Copyright ©
Terry Sirup
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