ONLY HOUSES I SEE

witch

The new spring blooms colors.

But who even bothers

to breathe the sweet air?

I don’t have a care.

My car fails to start,

a walk in the park.

I raise my small hand.

Gone is the quicksand.

It races down the hill,

the most heavenly thrill.

Shocked faces turn to me.

Only houses I see.

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