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Goldenrod
I think the world would be
so beautiful
if we allowed ourselves to cry when we feel
happiness
or pain
the bitter sting of regret.
If we stopped caring about what others think
and focused on how we feel
and think
and dream.
If city lights did not blind us from
the dazzling winter sky
the way that snow flakes
make you feel
in the moonlight.
I wish for childhood and open fields
goldenrod that sticks to my hands
me
you
spring mornings with a delighted surprise.
Being caught in the warm rain
rushing beneath the foliage
with muddy dress shoes
and evergreen trees —
and quiet afternoons wishing away
the hours
of the youth we will one day
pine to have again.
I would take all this regret
a thousand times
as to relive
how I felt when I was with you
for a moment of my life.
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