ONE PAST YESTERDAY

I pulled down a dream.

Opened like a present.

I feel a full sun warming me;

breezes reinforce the

moment.

Beach grass bends to rhythm.

Bicycles, open shirts,

uncombed hair.  Faces without

voices.  Water reflections.

Warm freshly tarred roads.

The fragrance of low tide.

Corners without

boundaries.

Each day writes its own menu.

Radios speak in concert over sand.

It was an open window.

Freedom not to return, except by

dreams.

 

 

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