Poem: Grasp

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If the Fog Lifts, by Megan Aline

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mist disappears into clear air
Turns into the space between us

We once were something no one could hold
All could see, none would breathe

It was an occurrence that clings under limbs
We were a paring like Lady Slipper and Pine

Reach for yesterdays fog
Grasp at straws that floss between fingers

 

-by SPL

 

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