Do you remember when you were four
Our long escape through the desert that fall
The strange excitement of the caravan
Sleeping fitfully under the stars
Our arrival at the already ancient city
Finding that little blue house and field
Behind the crumbled temple of the sun
The forest of the obelisks was gone
But the soul of Plato could still be seen
Pacing or sleeping under the palms
When we would go for walks
Breathing wisdom right out of the air
And then later on the hard trek back
So looking forward to having friends again
And to building a new kind of life
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