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Nostalgia

Eight, maybe nine, young
anyway. dirt and finger nails
twilight morning, furnace dying
late summer, long days, skin
smells of peanut butter and alder
leaves

Metallic penny tastes, toy
airplane, flying silently in
hand, pilot child, soaring over
silence, breath sleep steady

Chipped linoleum, caked mud
darting sparrows, grumbling
four-wheelers, wispy circles
of wind

Barefoot grass with dew

Let children play in their
waking dreams

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