I go
where the world goes
into the impossible
blue hours
of waking life
holding its heavenly hem
sometimes I'm tiptoeing
across fevered rooftops
before the day
knows I'm there
sometimes I find myself
confronted by December's blank stare
sometimes I go with
wind and whim
and find myself barefoot
on slender strands of sand
or stretched out
on the lawns of dawn
and when I go back inside
I leave it all
as I found it
wide and wild
and wondering
where you are.
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