#54

dashing

through a waking city

dew on the grass was

reflecting the sunlight

amplifying its gaze

young, old, tired, awake

while his breathe

fumed a constant trace

of white

all out of bread crumbs


 the quiet

screamed

“GIMME MORE  TIME!”

the loud

replied
in a whisper

“You’ll only waste it”

he stopped

at the crossroads

not able to choose

a side


after moonrise

everything was renewed

his worries, his doubts

but also the purest joy

of creating

fragments

solidified, once liquid

wordwasps


  •  27th September
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