Dreams of spring

Was that you, Mr. Turtle,
I saw in the reflected pools
of my dreams? I swear
it was your weight I heard
rolling in the standing waves,
your fleshy green shell
disappearing as smoothly
as a secret from the banks.
Tell me, Mr. Turtle,
could you feel my eyes
on you from your murky
winter bed? Did my stares
remind you that spring
would soon be upon you
once again? Forgive me
for breaking the rhythm
of your slumber; I long
to meet you as dearly as
echoes long for firm walls,
as the winter sun longs for
corners just out of reach.



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