I used to run my fingers through my mother's hair.
Falling asleep to the coolness and comfort between my fingers.
- I used to sleep.
I used to dream up wild tales of adventure.
Vitality pumping through every fibre of my being.
- I used to dream.
I would imagine myself with the man of my dreams.
Curing the ache and the bitter pang of loneliness.
- This I still cannot shake.
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