HUMAN SIZE
Small eyes, like the human size, make for a
wonderful face - no dinosaur-jagged
protuberances, no wicked leaves in the face.
We don't walk this tree-topped high to have
to worry; I guess that's why. A long time ago,
even I walked in my childhood woods; the trees
and the forests of long ago. I go there now, in this
present day, and - no, of course not - nothing
is the same. They've bolted the trees with doors, and
trimmed back everything the same. I remember where
I used to laugh and jump, and it's now all gone though
the woods seem the same. They seem smaller, but are all
more jumbled up - our paths are gone, brambles and
thistles grow everywhere, and the ancient grass is high.
Not yet a whimper passes from me, looking around
instead in some childlike reverie. We are some dead,
and not all my friends have survived. Some still live
around here, and others, yes, have died. Too bad, all that.
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