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Visions Lost

What holds your inner eye?
Visions lost, unfit to fly;
A travertine cabin,
A cottonwood rustle,
An iced spruce tree,
Some city’s hustle and bustle.
I lie down on a bed of poppies,
Lament my visions lost,
For I actually lie on cracked concrete,
My dreams consumed by frost.
Written by petitelolita
Published
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