Comes with the wind For a second turning Spinning out of control The aroma of thinking Fresh from the earth Best within hours Like bread from an oven And can be anything From the sound of a bee To the colour of a tree The shape of a rock Perfume in mall parking lot Size of a dot Music from another land News reports that want let go And up in color on a canvas Or a sketchbook page On the floor Wilting after If left unperturbed Empty and unfulfilled
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