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Spring Dreams

There’s a place in my heart where the flowers bloom. 

We eat breakfast,

and there is still time before noon. 

Well rested 

and hopeful for how the day will unfold. 

Time doesn’t seem like it’s cascading downward, I have time to hold

on to you as we sip tea from alabaster glasses.

Time doesn’t have to last us. 

But it no longer is fleeting. 

I’ve got enough of it to love every grain of wet sand between my fingers. 

But not so much

so that a kiss can still linger on like the image of the spark that lit the firework behind my eyes. 

Upside down and inverted it’ll take some time to come back. All in color

and right way round. 

The only way to find where the flowers bloom is to listen for when 

there is no sound.