Perhaps this should be
called possibility
Because hidden within
each tiny seed
(that has been hidden within my freezer for a year)
There lies a shadow
of an idea
of a summer day
of perfect green leaves
stretched toward the sun
on a leisurely journey
across a blue sky
But as I place
each tiny intention
in a spring thawed bed
I cannot help but think
of those that will never
feel the eminence
of their destiny
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