We Died
We died broadcasting dandelions over dry grass behind long shadows under crackling sounds of cottonwood leaves tumbling through Fall. We died with handfuls of whirlybirds, watching bees half human bounce across beds of cool clover never noticing the deep Prussian sky. We died longing for warm embrace, hearing the sound of scraping plates familiar voices and the encouraging slam of a screen door creaking floorboards and hearty laughter coming from within. We died soaring, in flight.
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