Examine… Prospects disfigured…
The factory snow blowing overhead,
and similes. You smile quite literally
in the airy green that cradles you,
your hand on a candle
and your eyes in a dream,
a reverie stolen. Pollen wisps
of light on the breakable vista
you imagine. Only time to savor you.
So it moves… How lucid here…

-r. miller

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