Gone is the stream

The Ever Flowing Stream is gone from My Life

Gone is the ever flowing stream.
Will I ever find it again do I ever dare deam?

Will the Warm Sunlight ever again touch my Soul?

Or will I lay unrecolected, dorment, and shatered only to become cold.

Entrapped in mud my feet be.

I try to get out but I have nothing left. I have no enery.

Poem's don't have to ryme to be true. They are spoken thoughts, sights, and feelings of what we are going through.

Brady Smith

9/4/97