Riding the tide of nightfall chill,
cresting the wave of dream-light
I find my mind in fantasy's will
somewhere between twilight and fancy's flight.
The parade of choices taken and discarded
pass me by, and I reach for those I choose to weave
into the fabric of dream.
Where will I go,
who will I be out there
somewhere between twilight and fancy's flight?
Meet me there on the cusp of Angel wings and heat.
Run with me through fields of brown wheat
until our feet lift from earth with arms spread wide
between twilight and fancy's flight.
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