She and I were
lying in the grass
one day and dreaming
at the sky.
We thought of
marriage, children
and even the
thought of happiness.
But we saw it
could never work
since we never
saw eye to eye.
So, we stood up
stretched our legs,
ran through the grass
and went our separate ways.
The poem should end here,
but one postscript.
We met once again,
on a concrete meadow,
we said hello and smiled,
but what was once is now a dream.
Dreams are not real,
but they should be.
Peace.
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