After a breath and before another, there's plenty of time to rest.

Even dead fallen leaves go a long way with the wind before getting crushed.

As the train picks up momentum
moving to the destination,
mind plays thoughts in rewind
turning back the wheel of time.
I've already started missing you.

perhaps,
every scent is another part of the poem,
where words stop,bend and listen
to the rustle of wind
for instance,when grabbed,
sky to loam.

did you capture your essence
and seal it behind glass
as often as I have ?
somewhere in life's reaches,
I used to be a child
who loved to laugh.

find cracks to fall in,
wings are only escalators
fissures between here and there,to fly,
all one must do,
is kill the disbelief of Love,
in you!

I breathe clean
I refuse to step
into that fake sordid lost world.
What's hidden is
hidden for a reason.
Keep it.