The
patent ambiguity of time,
September
rain to January snow,
the
meanings hidden deep within a rhyme
for
hearts alone, that minds will never know,
are
miracles alive beyond the ken
of
common man or woman, out of touch
realities
where reason’s never been,
a
paradise for dreamers. Out of such
I know
a place where wrong is never right,
where
all the many miseries of man
are
vanished or are vanishing from sight,
like pirates
in the Neverland of Pan,
below
the far horizon, yet above—
the
world of our extraordinary love.
~ Dean Neighbors ~
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