in my dream, i stood by your side
on a grassy hill, watching the sun rise.
april wind blew through the tall grass,
and i was wearing a cardigan and a favourite dress,
and you wore a smile and sleepy eyes.
my skin was splashed golden like buildings back home,
and your eyes were the color of ancient streams,
where we wrote words in the sand like poetry,
with quick and slow strokes too, saying good morning again to consciousness.
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