As a child
Did I not stare out the window
Wondering why the sky is blue
And was I not a constant flow of ‘why?’
As I questioned the very air I breathed
Or the scent of summer
Did I not want to know
Why it was not daytime at night
And what suspended the fingernail moon
Or how the ocean, distant at one moment
Managed to silently creep closer
And as I grew
Did I ever discover
Exactly why the sky is blue
Or did I just
Stop wondering?
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