Imagine that, little house on the
hill with black shutters, white picket
fence and green lawn. A tree in the front
yard grows thick over windows. Imagine
...
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In words! But, dreams are part of life. Thanks for sharing.
A fascinating poem. My favorite part: I'm lying on the lawn, the brown lawn, looking up at a cloud shaped like an eye. I am small and cold and the little house is long gone.