Recurring Arboreal Dream
It's always the same...
I arise in my dream with the sun inundating
Row upon row of golden apple trees.
Where is the man who tends this land—
Can it be me? The fruit of these trees
Harbours the essence of a thousand strong souls.
One bite is enough to produce such delight
That I always awaken, dismayed when I find
I no longer recall a fraction of all that was given.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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