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(3)
Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2247636
reflecting on childhood
And I was grown like this,
From the experience of my mother,
And of my mother's mother.
The light edging through the trees
Whispering,
Like overmorrow.
A promise,
Maybe.
A hope,
Almost certainly.
Mythical beings live in this light
And if you move faster,
Maybe
You will catch up to them,
Maybe
You will accidentally fall in

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