Fantasy
By Walter Burns
She forms here close in front of me We fall forth into fantasy Here there is no living sun So, true, our day is never done We can love each other since Here there is no consequence No action met with shamed remorse No loving touch with guiding force Where we met upon the wall Now is swept in waterfall There our names were carved in stone Now the peaks are overblown Rocks are thrust up from the ground So we play and make no sound For nothing lives in fantasy I’m glad you came to be with me Written July 13th, 2001 © on Jul 13 2001 06:14 AM PST 0 • 10
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"She forms here close in front of me..."