© Lee Bullitt, 2012


She saw potential tears coming.
She took me by the hand,
led me off the slither of wood, the stump I had been seated on.
She led me to a better clearing,
and she held my head, although I am taller,

but i fell into her.

The nook born into her, by god ot her mother.
She let me rest there until she kissed me. And I cried.
Quiet tears.
That was my dream. Just a dream.

When I awoke I was startled by the screeching of the halting train. 
The people around me,
They aren’t real.
Not as real as you.
Not as real as we could be.

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