Rivers make up this city.
A provinces quiet composure.
I can consider how loudly
my thoughts come and go.
And how impatient some
people are with the setting sun.
There are days when my sadness
is transported back to me.
And days when I write and sing
of magpies flying in the sky.
Then, suddenly I hear your voice
rumbling through the streets.
And I remember, you are here too.
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