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you’ve always thought of the green
as something blind and yet watching.
when others were playing around in the park,
making water balloons and chasing treasure,
you sat quietly near a tree
drawing empty faces,
branches stretching out into the sky
like arms waiting for an answer.
and as you grew older, you
taught yourself to forget
it staring back at you, old and unyielding and
always there.
when you go back to that place it’s still there,
waiting behind the reeds this time.
You still don’t have an answer but it does.
and as you lean in closely to hear,
it rustles and shakes and
softly takes your hand.

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