Hope the wind was strong enough
Blew us away like a chilled autumn rain
But got lost in the flat dreams of this new land
of mine, mines of imagination and simply ours
Keeping watch on the straining morning necks
Of sunny moments in the wight of those forests
We leap on our feet like rabbits eating words
Metaphors of no style lying in openness.
"to lie, little one, that is the question"
Said the old hare.
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