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back at school.

I stand in front of a sky blue sky

in front of a picture window, on a landing

in my old school

and a big white moon arcs across the sky

from left to right, then stops a moment,

goes back a little,

then carries on it’s travels.

The moon doesn’t do that,

I say to myself,

in which case, I must be dreaming,

so, find your hands,

I say to myself.

I look down and there they are –

not anyone’s hands, but my hands,

and, as Carlos says,

I am now awake within my dream.

After all these years.