Before the Break of Day

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Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame)

I walk to a stream,
And dip my nose and mouth,
Into the water.
It is cool,
Pinwheels and helicopters are,
Floating abreast it.
I smell the sweet scent of,
Pine cones and maple, recently fallen,
With tiny men jumping,
From dandelion to dandelion.
I perk up my equine ears,
And listen to the babbling stream,
It says:
“An ocean hath washed the grape vines away.”

I roll onto my back,
Kicking my hooves outwards,
I can feel every blade of grass,
brushing against my hair.
I roll over onto my side,
And open my eyes,
I perceive a red number: 653,
Floating in a glass box,
On a large wooden block.
Oh, how I dread waking in the morning.

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