the brown
that is the gravel
the rock
is golden

the silver wink
and shine
are corrugations
from the sun
into my eyes

idle suds
a journey
a swirl and sway
of bubbles
bound to go

to go

are gone

pen the sky
in semaphore

good afternoon

the poplars wave
the stream farewell

bubble brook



© Frank Prem, 2017

December 2017 Poem #25 tba

3 thoughts on “brook

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