My dreams are filled
With the images
Of the naïve

I still have the
Stubborn imaginings
Of a little girl

Hope tantalizes
The mouth of the idealistic

I salivate for the
Caressing breezes
I’ve never tasted

These things aren’t for me
And I can’t speak to whom they are for

But we stamp our little foot
And shake our little curls

And draw no continuum
From place to place
Or cause to effect

Any damage is done and covered over
And lays me intractably
And irrevocably bidden


I stretch to see the trees
For the forest

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