Thursday, November 20, 2014

Imaginarium

I hold his hands 
And we spin and spin
The wheatgrass tickles my calves
And his laughter rings in my ears
We twirl and giggle
Until the ground comes rushing at us
Dizzy and gasping for breath
The cerulean sky and marshmallow clouds
Slowly right themselves
While I reach over to hold his hand
And pretend I'm not 
In this field
Alone 

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