Monday, May 20, 2019

Microdream: Grief

Each and every thing
I can pluck from my mouth
From day-to-day


Feathers
Ashes
Songs


Anything that drifts
Lazily in the air
And flutters onto the ground


To alight in the crucible
Transformed by its longing
Marked by the sounds of love

That has nowhere to go

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