In a swirl of petals, words run dry. Up at the constellations, a sigh of breathless sky. The sweeping blades of green, a stumble of leaves, mere props for the stars. A man, a shade – a woman, a wisp; worlds apart, shoulders touching. Hands held, worlds apart. Once converged, forever yours.
Words flow as if through viscous air. The mirror a friend, shows marks of love without restraint. What is it to know? The world becomes your only hope. But is it right to hope? That words and deeds could merge as one? Worlds and skies converge to remind us all – life’s worth a shot, a song, a read. No book too easy, no words meaningless.
The words, they scramble, up in the sky. In patterns random, would you fly?