As I cast off each night
Looking for sleep,
I feel my likeness
In his pale outlines,
Pull away and row
Through his dreams alone,
Freed from my mind
And it’s wakeful confines.
In his wistful smile,
Piled in dusty stacks,
Lay all the plans
I’d made and put on hold,
Aspirations withered
Waiting for their time,
Graying dreams
Prematurely grown old.
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