If poetry is a free flowing stream of expressions
Rivers would be flooded with confessions & questions
Tumbling away over the pebbles
Carving a new path and letting away a few bubbles
Carefree splish-splash sprinkling along the way
Enhancing a Friday or ruining a Monday
Unrestricted by tributaries or canals
Or washed residue of mortal sins
Into the ocean, one day, this river will flow
But not without making its own rainbow
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