Monday, April 25, 2016


Through a field of flowers.
Pink petals in my hair.
Follow the babbling brook.
At the mountains I stare.

Green grass for carpeting.
Wisps of clouds circle me.
White snow caps the mountains.
Grey rocks all I can see.

Oasis in the grey.
A mirage that can’t be.
How do flowers grow here?
An illusion for me.

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