The Walk

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I wish I could walk a lane in a wonderland

Where the hills exhale a white mist when they breathe

Where the meadow is God-cradled bleached orange

And the hills are velvet bald green

The trees upon them a furnaced gamble of evergreen and golden moments

A smear of red is sunset fuel

This is where I would be to just pause the day and not hurt

A place to not sense the suffering of the world

But to be reminded of the narrow places

Where humanity and shimmering wonder still exist