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The Drowning
Raven haired
With a dark
Complexion,
Small for her age,
A bit tom- boyish
But well liked.
With two friends
She left for
The woods
After tea time,
It being July-
A hot summer.
Later upon leaving
The cinema
With some friends
I sensed something
Was wrong as I
Approached home.
At the fluke hole
Apparently she had
Lost her footing,
Fell in, and although
A swimmer the depth
Took her.
Fourteen years before
From the waters of a
Womb she swam forth
Birth crying into the arms
Of love....
poem
by
Liam ó Comáin
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