We grasp at them, hoping to find them real
But knowing we live as in a dream
With our parting imminent.
And yet, to part will then be natural
For we wills till have our memories
We wills till have our dreams
And in them, we can live as we do now.
And we will only be apart
When we wake.
[This and the two following posts are poems written during my lunch breaks while working in Yellowstone this summer.]
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