What began a note proclaimed
Of words and what they ought contain
So spiraled out and over like a portrait that could not be framed

Slipping past and so beyond
Like little worlds on floating fronds
Where tangled tongues were trying not to jeopardize a bond

So became a final note
That flew and fell as any mote
Of dust, for in the winds of want, not every soul can float


2 thoughts on “Float

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