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Heroine MAG
Sparse raindrops riding the weave
of my window screen.
Webs of wishes formed by the
droplets visiting me.
The fresh cut grass fills my room with that
familiar scent
Spring, when the weather changes
at the blink of an eye.
Five minutes and be sure of
transformed skies.
A want to vacate the stale air
filled room.
A need to experience the rain as it
tickles my face.
My eyes closed to the occasional
tear
cried at some sad scene in the motion picture
called Life.
Sun peeks around the lone cloud, the curtain
in the sky,
the happy-ending waiting for whatever
tragedy to end.
Barefoot, grass sliding, squishing,
sticking against my toes.
I long to remain, to be the heroine
of Life.
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