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A rivers bend
from end to end
the bridge did swathe
bisecting west

where flat land lay
against one side
the Chinese sat
in search of gold

or sudden escape
from a foreign land
through sun then sun
then southern sand

where holidaying now
we held our breath
in awe of a water
too crystal then clear

deep and full
in solitude’s gate
in a summer lost
on skimming stones

on the peaceful banks we now called home
for sand and solitude did a river make
that summer together
at Turon gate