Little fingers
Extend outward,
A gap between each finger,
The sun shining through.
Behind each finger,
Rustling trees,
Bend in the wind,
Down to each other.
And to the little mind
Of the little boy,
With the little fingers,
The trees were kissing.
And to the bending trees,
And to the rustling wind,
And to the shining sun,
The little fingers,
Of the little boy
With the little mind,
Were kissing them.
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