We Were
We Were Children
Waiting for nothing for everything
unconcerned with moments
how they'd slip past
only whispers on July's breeze
remember us in the back field
sun torturing arms and noses
intent, curious, innocent beings
omnipotent, feckless,
soft as warm air
our childish words
expressed in vagabond faces,
dressed in lies, but, just children
waiting for nothing
waiting for everything
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