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Sometimes when skimming past
The island of happy summers
In a boat never imagined as a child
If I look quickly at the east end
Where the granite and pines
Slope down to the rocky shelf
And the river teases the pink stone,
I can see, in a scene of black and white
Superimposed (over the green and blue of now)
Two young sisters
Standing, laughing on the rock
With the long-gone canvas canoe
Pulled up next to them.