In the air,
on the surface of leaves.
Streaming down the street
into potholes.
It was in the exhale
of runners on the road.
It was like the mist, gentle yet
undeniable.
She wondered why
some still
could not see it.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
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It was in the exhale
of runners on the road.
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I appreciate your reflection.
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It’s a poem that makes me wonder what ‘it’ is. It could be anything, really. Somehow it makes me think if light and happiness. Sometimes we can’t see it because we are caught up in the every day routine that we take, stuck in a cycle we can’t seem to get out of.
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Mabel, what a wonderful reflection. I wondered what different readers would interpret from this poem. Thanks for sharing yours.
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