Sit up and listen,
To the water flowing downstream,
Below the mountain of pasqueflowers,
Where we swam a bit and played a little,
Too much water, just too much,
Flowed, but not for long after,
Aftermath, not worth remembering at all,
Subtle nostalgia of the rise and fall,
Spiraling conversations,
Thou art an architect of this universe,
Time for the one to retire,
And return to a drag beyond the black,
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