dreams. fantasy
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Like Mother's beads that she wore every so often,
Like the oceans that smoothed the sandy beaches,
as the painter brushed the white canvas gently and intently.
If you're looking,
I'll be napping,
somewhere in Dreamland.
If you're looking,
I'll be high in a tree,
as the Sun's rays recoil
over Uncertianity's horizons.
