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for a squirrel

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she catches falling stars
puts them on paper
for the
rainy days
when memories fade
from gold to gray
she sees through layers
when other fail, yet
misses
the gauziest fabrics
her eyes hold hints of hazel
that she considers
an anomaly
as if.
others would kill
for what she considers imperfections.
in the dark
she takes my hand
and whispers of other, golden nights
as though
there will be
no more.
but i know
there will be
for the girl with blue eyes
and smidgens of hazel
the girl who dances, sings
writes in a red leather notebook
dreams.



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