For dreaming is for everyone

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Her browning black tousled hair;

Fluttered hesitantly with the evening wind.

Hands smeared with unruly grime

And eyes that sang with a chime;

She bothered a little

About her clothes tattered;

And much too little of her

Shoes – awfully battered.

By her dirt-packed sack she stood

Weary and stumbling upon

The surreal chasms

Of her zillion reveries;

She knew that it would be a hard journey;

But she would only make it;

For who said rag pickers aren’t humans?

They love, live and dream just like the way you do and me.

-Verina

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Grace
    Nov 25, 2014 @ 07:35:07

    A beautiful poignant poem. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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© Varina Berryl Rasquinha, 7verina.wordpress.com, 2015.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Varina Berryl Rasquinha and 7verina.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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