sometimes in the evenings wheneverything is still
with nothing but the sound of
wind in trees, and the call of birds is
faint and far away,
ideal thoughts fill my mind
pipe dreams of many things
of love and life and
wondering
where I’m bound.
flights of fancy tickle
my brain
spin me around with never
a sound
in their coming and only
a trace in my memory when
they’re gone.
© Perle Champion
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