A Hundred Feet Tall

Towering above heaven,
a hundred feet tall.

You, the talk of the town,
a town with one resident,
lost child,
all alone,
except her treehouse voyeur,
always watching,
always whistling Tchaikovsky,
accompanied by thunder.

Never climbing down,
never walking,
just waiting,
baited breath and icy stare,
holding her dreams inside of your hands,
tightly, but with enough room for them to breathe.

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