Once, I ran naked through a field of fine yellowed wheat,
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my grassy hair fleeing the wind's even-tempered tide.
Briars struck at my spindly legs, begging -
take hold seed, take hold,
though each spine showed individual mercy
to let me pass without a scratch.
I look back upon those days, warm
cozy daydream-yesterday memories -
a never-reality conjured forth by a magician's soul-breath! a dream!
I wonder if age is only a dream, and wonder
if aged I shall only become.
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