I Am, Mary Duroux

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I am
the river,
gently flowing,
as I wind my way to the sea.

I am
the breeze,
softly blowing,
through the leaves of a
mighty tree.

I am
the snowcapped mountain,
the frost, the wind, the rains.

I am
a misty fountain,
the dry and dusty plains.

I am
the sparkle,
of the early morning dew.

I am
the dream
of my mother’s dreaming.
Who are you?

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