Mountains
By Linda4ever
Piled rocks, with streams flowing through. There is no taste, but the fresh air ofthe wilderness. Why so quite, and calm. It's only me, with my canoe.As I go down the river I realize I'm ina world of my own A world called my home.Mountains Written October 13th, 2001 © on Oct 13 2001 03:02 AM PST, Missy 0 • 13
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"Piled rocks, with streams flowing through. There is no taste, but the fresh air ofthe wilderness. Why so quite, and calm. It's only me, with my canoe.As I go down the river I realize I'm ina world of my own A world called my home.Mountains..."