She shuffles in, soggy eyed,
enslippered: I dreamt
of a world where crystals floated
out of the sky, catching light…
Her eyebrows cave in and down:
But they came to us slower than rocks should fall.
Maybe the gravity was different?
No, they weren’t rocks,
somehow, they were–
they were water!
And oh, the colors…
He smiled: good morning, love.
Handed her a cup: have you
looked outside?
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