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What if

By on Feb 7, 2014 in Poems | 0 comments

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What if

I stood at the crest of a hill,

 A soft hill that descended like a slide,

And what if

The top of the hill was a plateau

And a tree

Not big but perfectly shaped

With a rounded top sprouted into twigs

And tipped with tiny buds like fingernails,

Stood behind me.

And what if

It were dusk and the sun was behind me casting

Long shadows.

We, the tree and me,

Titanic and lanky

Would crawl slowly down the hill in the lengthening night

Getting longer and thinner,

El Greco silhouettes.

And what if

The wind blew my hair

And it flew up into the branches and tangled there,

And my arms multiplied like a Hindu god

And my fingers, stretched long in the lengthening shadows,

Splayed among the bud tipped branches.

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