A leaf fell on to the skin of water
Balancing between floating and
Sinking, like a second life it was
Neither here or their.

Ever in-between traveling between
The realms of life and death. For
It did not grow becoming ever more
Fragile, seeing above naked branches
Where life once gave but fell.

And below as it skimmed on this fragile
Moment, dancing to the whims of the
Winds as past hence but more delicate
Where movements than they were before.

Little fragile existence of what was and
Had now become, it enjoyed its dance
But knew that it was a matter of time
Before the dance ended and to pieces it
Would collectively sink one last time.

Once broken with innocence,
Built again with care.
If shattered on purpose,
Pieces wouldn't be found.
As for the ship in the bottle,
She'll find another sea
And another sky
Or a maelstrom of deceit
Or maybe create maelstroms of her own.
For she knows no bottles anymore.
Why the false sense of security?
When she can have a crew of her own!
Without worrying about the shattered glass
And it's piercing dust
That cuts through her.
That's been cutting through her.
All this while.