*****
YOU RUN FAST NOW
A wee and weary child, not mine,
not mine, a shadow spectre,
o’ spectre of a broken time,
en’ time from glass reflectors,
Mirror’s what we call them,
not image-man reflectors,
make up you mind on space and time,
project your self-protectors,
And wait for me, beyond the trees,
the trees, you’ll hear me in laughter,
laughter and me believing in things,
in things that giggle and whisper…
*****
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