If all things have doubles, I guess she's mine,
In mood, action and lines of thought so fine.
She looks at the world the way I do
Always seeking, asking what, when, where, who?
We are two of a kind, we really are
Oceans and mountains to our minds are no bar.
We wander near and we wander far
Our minds our horse, chariot or car.
Our minds work in ways weird and strange
In far off nooks and dark corners do our thoughts range.
Dreams are the stuff of our staple fare,
The racing of pulses and dark nightmare.
I often wonder whether there be others such
Who love dreams, oh so much.
Who throughout their lives are so joyful and gay
Thinking thoughts that range far and away!
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