Something like a boy you meet;
at a large set of gates, a top a hill-
with a purple sky and a,
wish,
is what you sound as,
reading palms.
Fairytale-voice.

A double-placid,
vigilant gaze,
and three words to make
an old rebel smile again
and again.
I dream, you.
Pinch my heart-
" Now listen here. "

 
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