Still Emerald Green
what of the road that whines behind
with tell-tale signs and ancient rhymes almost forgotten -
what of the hills that roll and bend and extend
deep into the valleys below them;
the rolling hills that send us back to momma's bosom -
and what of the rivers in this dream, still emerald green
that flow between them?
oh to recall the first time... we wade within them.
I like this...
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