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Prison
May 8, 2009
In my mind
I can hear the river rushing
So close I should be able to touch it
I can hear the birds
That look down at me
Singing their songs
Of comfort and freedom
I can feel the tall grass
That sways around where I lay
And the cool morning dew
That lingers on
I can taste freedom
But when I open my eyes
I am once again surrounded
By the gray walls of my prison
© Heather H., LaHarpe, IL
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