Author: Léo Beaulieu

Baby by the river of longing

If upstream the water was dark

downstream it had darkened death

The bridge had gone

leaving pilgrims abashed

wandering wondering

on the sorry shore

There was no place to swim to

but one where to drown there was

The only safe way was up

Up the steep wooden stairs

Way too many of them

All the way to the cave

we had fled

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