Clouds (day 416)

The clouds that cover the outlets
Form mysteries about the faint, winter breaths
Whispering echos across the hallways and through closed doors
Crawling up to the open windows that mark the edges of sanity
Sleek metal surfaces cause symbolic reverberations
Nestling their way through the gates of that which is never closed
Gone are the ribbons that present the pretty box
Lost long ago with the mermaids that kicked and swam deeper

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