Going Home
I sink into plushness
Of soft silky lushness
Of dreamy round clouds
Of angel veiled shrouds
I fly up to meet
The Man in the street
The rich golden hue
Underneath my soft shoe
I fall down to find
The One of a kind
The Beauty within
The resplendent skin
I reach up to grasp
With deaths’ last gasp
The Hand held to me
As the Man sets me free
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