Wednesday, August 10, 2011

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Head Hanging backwards
over monkey bars at age eight
Feet at the top, the world
turned topsy turvy.

Head hanging backwards
over the boat, the river became
My sky, and surreal reflections
My world.

A sidelong glance at your face and
My heart leaps up and I behold
Worsworthian rainbows
in the sky.

I thirstily search among crowds
The next face could be yours, after all
And will o'the wisp memories become
my shadowy companions.

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