Round and round , I come back
To the same round -round stuff.
A door revolves to a train dream
A train always missed in station
And a child running in the grass .
A hillock waits at its vernal end .

Your mountain is my mountain
Your grass mine,your sky mine
Your round is mine ,my stomach.
To touch I feel downy like a hill.
I am the child of your mountain.

I am ochre -running, vertiginous,
Big Knowledge gathering leaves.
My leaves fall by an alltime wind
Round and round ,yellow to green
And door revolves to train dream.

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