An eye opens to iridescent windows, whispering breezes onto closed eyelids
Combs brush through the earth, picking up pace and trickling into basins of the night
A soft exhale floats away as subconscious memories part from the ideal
Silence.
A hum appears to soften the return of reality, wooing the sight into a clock
Such a plentiful display of ephemeral seconds, grinning in warm pity
As of the moment, the day is golden
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