Not the same as I do

I don’t know if
The way I look at the sky
Is the same way you look at it
I run across the lusty fields
Kissing the peachy sky
I lay on the rusty hay
To look at the twittering birds up high
I dip my fingers to ripple the water
While the kites start rolling down
I untie my entangled burgundy curls
And fly my scarf with the playful wind
So far just fostering
my bittersweet friendship
with the ochre sunset
But there under the big fat tree
The little girl I see
in a red frock and white ribbons
Put back her beads
Of pink white and green,
In her broken wooden cage
That once with hearts had she knit

Then quickly swabbing the Sandhill
she built all since the blistering afternoon
Now to run back home

As evening encroaches speedily
While I still sit gazing at the setting sun
Throwing pebbles and dipping my toe
Gaping at the little red-riding-hood fading into the horizon
Because of the way she sees the sunset
Is definitely not the same as I do

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