Mud Puddles

January 1, 2012
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Sometimes when the wind whispers a certain tune
And carries the smell of memories
Spun into dandelion chains
The summer that seems like a dream
Reappears before her, almost reachable,
Taunting, it reminds her of the endless days
When her feet sliced through mud puddles
And her hair whipped the air
As she leapt into the ice white lake and
The reflection of clouds cushioned her fall
When she roamed through fields of wheat
That sang of autumns to come and
As she reaches for the dream
It evaporates, reaching the surface of her consciousness
And bursting into reality
And the summer floats away again
On the sky that once carried her name

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