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She hold the dream in her hands, What a beautiful poem by Jane Dougherty

Jane Dougherty Writes

Pierre-Auguste_Renoir_-_La_Cueillette_des_fleurs

I dream of places deep and green

Where we could live our idyll

Where the air is full of birdsong

And trees grow tall in the silence

Of the bright sky’s rim.

I picture where we’ll sit, just you and I

In a stone flagged kitchen

Or a cosy den of polished boards

With a woodstove to heat our winter days

And windows open to the summer breeze.

You smile and tell me we already have

The only things that we will ever need.

The world outside our room can turn,

Suns follow moons and cats and city lights,

As long as you have your desk next to mine

And all you have to do is raise your head

And I am there.

I think that all I want is space to write my words

And watch the world outside flow gently by

In a graceful dance of red leaves…

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