See-through
Like
blowing marble,
Silk bubbles
poke,
Winking in
jelly,
Wallowing outward.
Such delicate
things
Hold the
world inside.
Stripped
colours bleed
A living
prism.
Translucent
skin
Spins on air,
Leaning on
nothing
Except
the breeze.
Like blowing
dandelions,
Heads splitting
To spread
small seeds
In the
millions.
This cloud
of dust,
Yellow-white
gold,
Caresses
my fingers
To whisper
to me
This journey
of life,
Bringing
and leaving.
A dance of
reflection,
Lingering
on air.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, July 15, 2020
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