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Wistmans Wood
Rain greeted my return to you,
The pain of not belonging wiped out like a tear on my windscreen;
Mild green laughter fell from the oaks;
Moss curled hands reached out, starred campion lanes held me.
My humble rainbowed tears overflowed: the rivers and granite soaked up the pain.
Poem By Rachel Burch
Wistmans Wood Is Near Two Bridges
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