My Salvation

Lies in a little tin can

At the foot of a dresser

A little dream resting on a hardwood floor

Waxing and waning.

Every child needs something or other to snuggle up to

Or reach out for

And believe is alive and listening

A little dirt

A few weeds and a wind blowing

Some cotton to drag through it

And hold tight to.

Something soft

Something real

A good, old, friend.

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