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Time dredges torn rivers
in the silted greys
of sludged loneliness.

Paddleboats massage deep pains
with butterflown wisps of soot,
batting hopes of romance,
portly, starboard.

Brooding clays and gravel,
water-born from light to depths,
content themselves to self-made beds,
concreted on the solidarity
of wisdoms, forgotten.

( written for Open Link Night at DversePoets )

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