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A Dream

By Tinna Tanuma

It was a big open space.
Despite the cool day, warm.
The walls raw pine, unfinished,
were a light mellow yellow brown.
There was one window
on the north wall.
The ceiling had a hole
in one corner,
ladder vested in it.
Bushels of apples lined
the back wall, floor to ceiling.
The aroma a reminder of
grandmother's orchard.

The gray concrete floor
was covered with a
light dusting of tan powder
from the dirt road
fifty feet away.
Last of the fall leaves
rounded the corners.
Pungent wood shavings
lay under the road sign.
Most of the light entered
through the wide opening
of the garage door.
Trucks were standing outside
in the drive way.

A young girl, in a cream cotton dress,
vested tightly over her fat tummy,
stood watching her father working. 

He was bent over,
his blond hair falling in his face
while his pipe hung
loosely from his lips.
She liked the cherry
smell of the pipe tobacco.
He was sanding the
wooden sign that
he had just built.

She was asking questions.
"Who is the sign for? Where will it go?"
"Rochester, New,York."
Silence, then,
"Daddy, I want
to be like you, with lots of friends
who visit while you work."

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