If I could walk over clouds
as if they were tiny pebbles,
it would be a lonely trek
if we couldn’t go together
holding hands like Peter Pan
and his troupe off to the stars
but we would choose the third,
perhaps even the left and a day,
just so our trip is ours alone.
Would you fly with me there
to where stars weep in joy
and rivers flow backwards
just for a sip of the unknown,
traipsing off the beaten path
for roads that much less worn?



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