Marrow (day 2351)

I wrote a poem as depths of summer
Did I know it would collapse?
I followed the wind into sweet trees
And left my marrow to bleed.
I cried a last chance
Like winds over emptiness
I called and hung on to a word
Yet unspoken was my very reply.
Soon I had walked beyond
Escaped a southern wind
And opened my book to a lost page
Again, a cold and fleeting choice.

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