Wish that I could tell you
the things that mean nothing
the goals, and the world, and the why.
Something had stirred me
alarmed me
awakened.
And all I could see past me by.
Dozens of phantoms.
Clovers, and poppies.
Colors and rainbows and lies.
Candycoated railroads.
And toffee iced windows.
Enough to drive fear from your life.
And if your heart is pure
whispered on a marshmallow moon.
You just might see it with your eyes.
Give it a listen.
A heartfelt tradition.
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