Life

[tectak]

The bubble burst too soon,
from spittle-chased lips she slipped,
blown into being on a blighted breeze,
soul danced over summer gardens,
weightless with early complications,
cradled in a falling feathers sway, feather's
breathless to her mother’s arm,
she aged as an idea in my palm.

....but that's it. Beautifully constructed from words dipped in glitter. Sometimes I get to read someone else's thoughts. It is a privilege. Thanks.
Very best,
tectak