The dawn fades
to the heavy afternoon.
I'll stand in the shade
of a withering green tree,
hoping for unknown reasons
that you won't find me.
But I don't think it will matter.
You couldn't save me from myself
in the bleak winter;
let not the summer be any different.
You could be walking down the street,
arms wide open for me alone;
or is it simply a mirage?

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