Disillusioning

It’s                   . . . disillusioning

discovering that your dreams are as

fragile

as

paper

kites,

as tears

 

falling

 

from eyes,

just ready

 

to break, b re   k

a

 

on candle wickers

nearly spent,

over dust in sun,

from heaven sent,

 

I just wanted to be near you.

 

 

 

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