Ethereal mind-rain floats a haphazard guess,
You must login to vote
a vibrant, blissful dream-future helium-rising -
still just out of reach. Grab at it, grasp
toward the misty, hope-silence, it's empty air.
Palms will cup-clutch-shiver with nervousness, words will bend toward
light, seeking nitrate-strength,
all resilience for the growing season, a tender reason,
until the hope is no more, for it's been
lost or gained. The rain stops, the shimmerless, reflecting puddles dry, and all that's left is motionless,
meaning-lost sand pouring through antiquated, obfuscated hourglasses -
how long to remember yesterday's hope?
-=[ Blank this intentional space! ]=-