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A Beauty From Redding
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A beauty from Redding,
alone on a hillside,
where dreams play viola
and wishes agree
Hair spun of moonbeams.
as eyes tend to wander.
while sharing the shade
of a sycamore tree
Gathering daisies.
with petals for pulling.
near shadows now painting
designs on the ground
Following seasons.
in soft subtle colors.
past butterfly whispers
of barely a sound
Endlessly dancing.
like dandelion seedlings.
that tumble and twirl
on the gentlest breeze
Barefoot and smiling.
she wanders the valley.
along lonely pathways
with hope if you please
Watch from a distance.
with silhouettes clinging.
to yesterday’s sorrows
now left on a shelf
Don’t bother calling,
she finds fading echoes.
are nothing but trouble
in spite of herself
For, she’s an illusion,
your imagination,
now conjured inside of
the heart in your chest
Memories carried,
alone on a hillside,
while time disappears
on this fantasy quest
Life sits there waiting,
it’s losing its patience
as you find your reasons
are more than you see
In search of a beauty,
who comes down from Redding,
where dreams play viola
and wishes agree
Copyright ©
Chris Green
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