You rush over me
Like a fast-moving river
Smoothing the rough edges
On the hard stones
Making them soft and touchable.
Yet I'm afraid you will simply wash over me
And move on downstream, not reversing your course
Or dissolve me before you travel on.
Slow down, river, let's find a pool
For deer to drink from
And fish to swim in before
This happy process is complete.
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Yes! I've been there, Claire!