Circular

The mountains make the rivers
That to oceans always go:
The oceans make the clouds that spill
The mountain snow.

The process never has an end,
It’s circular, you see:
Just like the way I love my love,
And she loves me.

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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