I miss the river of my birth,
Where the scent of my blooming
Still lingered in the noses
Of men I never knew.

Will I ever go home
And not be known
By people, who never liked me
and who I never acknowledged
As people worth knowing?

The great Ohio knew more of me
Than these people, who claim friendship
For what they could use me for.

Sitting on her banks,
Having intimate conversations with the waves
While she listened intently with understanding
Only a mother could offer.


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Copyright ©1998 by Carol Hopwood. All rights reserved.
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