Row, row, row your mind
gently to the end of your dreams,
turn and look back
and try to comprehend what it all means
Wild waves slap the innocent shore
then effect a hasty retreat;
the sun and moon witness it all
but refuse to speak
A bird on a high wire
that no one understands,
watches shiny carousel horses running circles
in the shifting sands
So many delicate dreams
turn out blue;
perhaps the greatest one someday
shall come true
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