The Way of the Blossoms
I made my hiding place
a large cardboard box
at the back of the garage.
There I lived my secret life.
Days were longer then,
so were the years that I dreamed
of being a thousand different places,
other than Wichita.
It rained,
hailed, and
snowed
year after year.
And all too often my creative thoughts,
dreams and imagination
followed the way of the blossoms
in the bedroom window box.
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