The day they gave out opportunity,
I imagine I was daydreaming
of some far-off wonderland,
the crystal waters,
the bluest skies
and greenest meadows,
lush fields
of flower and fruit.
I may have been contemplating you,
and the way your fingers curve,
ferns unfurling
in the warmth of my hand.
I was dreaming so hard
of might’ve-beens
I missed the moment,
missed the mark,
and missed you.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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