A part of me
She is the song like river.
Her hair flows long, long time to the sea's opening.
She is (was?) (will be?)wide-eyed; open-mouthed; a lonesome heart.
She is the song like river.
Her notes carry far, take me far, and push me (up)
the mountain.
She is the song which whispers,
"Spring showers patter like a tiny child's heart."
She is breathless, fleeting, exquisite.
She is the song that started as it ought:
A tiny cluster, a blossom.
The song worked through her, and she let it let her go.
She glides downriver,
She sings from within,
I hear her.
The song remains.
She is the song...
Mama Saphira since 1st September 1984
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