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Moody River
My river shows its moody face,
of brightness displays not a trace.

Raindrops pitter-patter down
upon the surface, rippled, brown.

Grey mist, fussy, lifts her skirt
lest petticoat doth trail in dirt.

Trees, dejected, trail sad fingers;
day of melancholy lingers.

Mother duck shepherds her brood
away from brown stream's nasty mood.

Small ripples grow to flowing creeks;
we've needed rain like this for weeks.

Sunday's regatta is postponed.
I know because the mayor phoned.

By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)


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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Word Painting w/panther811-read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)

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