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A young man walking by the brook,

Stops to gaze downward, and looking

At his reflection in the still mirror

Of the clear sparkling water,

Sees a different type of person

Than he really thought he was.


A young girl looking

Into her vanity mirror,

Wonders at her youthfulness,

Wonders if the years

Will be kind to her, will she keep

The rosy blush upon her cheeks?


A child plays quietly in the sand

By the ocean deep

Building castles, the sand is soft,

Warm, and moulds so beautifully,

Turrets, rising high and proud,

And then the ocean wave

Crashes in, and all must start again.


Rain falling gently, a puddle forms

On the sidewalk,

And as each drop meets the reality

Of the larger amount of drops,

A ripple forms, and rippling outward

Ever widening, spreading,

Until it meets the edge of the pool

Reverses, meeting other ripples.


Life is the brook where the young man gazes,

Life is the brook, the mirror that amazes.

Life is the puddle where the rain dances,

And choices are to be made.

Hard, soft, playful.

The ocean only comes to the sand castle,

The ocean cannot change your mind,

And as the rain drops falling into the pool,

As we fall into life,

We ripple outward,

Ever onward to the edge,

And then we ripple back, meeting other ripples,

Sharing experiences, until we again

Meet the place where we fell into life,

And the Centre of the ripples is calm.


ba ba ba


Dictated by The Herald

through Sheila M. Street

on July 15, 1981

Copyright 2006

Sheila M. Street


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