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WHEN I WAS... (The Dash Between The Dates)
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i can hear the wind blow |
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and only i know |
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what it whispers |
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to the bees buzzing |
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in the grass watching |
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magical dandelions |
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blow away |
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bound for nowhere . . . |
. . . and everywhere
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as i follow up through |
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the emerald lace to |
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the sun's scattered diamonds |
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amidst alabastrine silhouettes |
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sailing lazily away |
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with acrobats sky dancing |
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in a show just for me . . . |
. . . breezing , i can remember
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when i was small and running |
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with arms spread wide and high |
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away for who knew where |
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and i don't really think |
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now or then or ever |
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purposely landing and planting |
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somewhere or anywhere . . . |
. . . but here as i meld
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with the brown , patient earth |
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i'm accepting i was |
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the sum of my experiences |
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deemed good and called bad |
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said right and viewed wrong |
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when i took and what i gave |
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of all i did ~ and didn't do . . . |
. . . so this will be the dash
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between the dates of my time |
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as i drift outward , upward and onward |
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for who knows where |
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while in the grass |
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the bees still buzz |
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watching magical dandelions |
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blowing away , far away . . . |
. . . bye bye , lion dandy flying
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all ways and for ever |
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Copyright ©2006 Sterling Whispers All rights reserved.
No written part of this publication may be reprinted without written permission of the author.
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