FALL/ WINTER 2010

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Eric Miller

THE LAKE

I row out silently across the lake
Obsidian tides gently stroke at the wood beneath
 
Glancing up at the sky
The moon gives enough light for me to lose my innocence
 
I begin casting stones into the shallows
I wonder if the ripples will ever reach the shores
 
Or am I unanswered?
My thoughts unresolved
Only to gracefully drop
To the sand below


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