I sit on a log, as a child,

watching the clouds drifting by, crying.

In the presence of others yet separated from them,

I am alone and distant.

The hurt fills my insides,

building the guarded wall even higher.

I revisit the log, as a woman,

watching life drifting by, hiding.

Being a dreamer, both then and now,

even when broken dreams bring heartbreak.

In the presence of others yet separated from them,

I am alone and distant.

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