in the song
cool of the breeze
in the words of a painting
in the sky
of a dawn

until
my sight sings
tree branches dance
being mind
and spirit

where in
all that beats my soul
rocks back and forth
as the world
spins

takes me
a minute to catch breaths
to run loose
join in the
dance

I remain
just a small
piece of torn
fabric

tattered
old, insignificant