I see
Little pieces of me
Weaving in and out of sun soaked
Broken bird wings
Darting in between tree tops
An infant that is stronger than underground roots
My dress is white lace, bright and new
Worn like the first breath of a Phoenix
This is a crisp harmony
Dried up in the grass
Mixed in with
Little pieces of me
I see
Written in the shade to foreshadow.
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