be this young again,
she thinks to herself,
as the wind
blows
her flowered dress into the air.
never will
i be this
this beautiful,
this alive.
it's early in the day,
as the sun
picks up the blue
in her eyes.
there's no shortage of those
who want her
hand.
no lack of choices
of who to love,
of who to
let inside.
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