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Seasons of Myself

Updated on April 22, 2016

Each time the air
begins to shift
and nature leaves its mark,
I find myself searching
for myself.

I hide carefully behind
roses with thorns
and discarded pill bottles,
laughing while they try
to maneuver through mazes.

Snow angels are the only remnants
of my fingerprints in the snow
and my breath releases secrets
in the form of willowy smoke
that disappears into thin air.

Bees buzz through my hair
and tangle in my thoughts
as dirt encrusts my fingernails
while I dig for answers in
shallow graves.

I tread lightly on the open ocean,
my hair fanned out behind me.
The sun dips out of sight
and so do I
as I let the ocean take me home.


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