Picked.

Inspiration2If I didn’t know your name…I would call you the dalliance of a daisy. You dally. You ramble and you roar. I could call you the delicacy of a lingering moment, the residue of a phantom touch. Deh lah kah see.

The delectable dalliance of the soft ground. My heel sinks, my flesh expands and softens.

It’s so quiet here. If I didn’t know your name…I would call you the fleeting wind that whips around the cliffs. Swiftly singing an invisible and violent tune. Chanting sweetly between the sinew. A little higher and I’ll hum.

Sweetly singing tunes of forgotten youth…makes me feel all at once freshly picked and…

…gray.

 

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