When I was young,
I crawled in her lap
and listened to her sing.
The sound of her voice
carried me to a distant sea,
where waves tossed gently
and my boat was her rocking
chair, and I heard the sound
of seagulls flying in the air.
I think I was dreaming,
because she was never there.
When I sailed this ocean,
she never saw me there,
among the clouds
and the birds
and the distant shore.
Her music still rang,
but her body never came
to carry me back home.
I think it was her way
of protecting me
from the noise of normal tones.
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