Windmills
I was born in rehab.
Hearing the hollowness of my own ear drums,
I felt loose and without words.
I love windmills,
As the world echoes around me:
With the girl who can't walk.
And the giant, angry one.
I hate work.
I want balloons, bubbles, and windmills.
I want them now.
Somewhere I will open up the quietest of dreams.
And round and round we all will go
As big as a hot air balloon.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2009
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