Barefoot with Flowers


Could be the head of a lit match whose ember falls carelessly.

A distance between right or wrong.

While barefoot on a gravel street.

Powerful…

The reflection upon every miscellaneous flower that I greet.

I often become so tripped up in the business of being me.

Blinded by all I see.

That it becomes so easy to forget how fragile life can be.

 

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