A Sweet Dream
Her smiling face,
As a cardinal Bird,
Sings in my mind,
To develop new craft images,
To appear in my sleep,
Becoming a sweet dream.
Her smiling lips,
A melanic melody,
To melt away memories,
To mend one’s pace,
A mental arithmetic,
To find one’s bearings.
Her smiling eyes,
To put one’s finger on,
To get someone’s down
To a fine art, a fire bucket,
Finders’ keepers,
To find to the finish.
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