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Focus
I walk through my city
White snow churned to brown
Ice-hugged streets a ready trap
To catch the unwary
A little out of breath
I pause on a high bridge
While people hurry by, faceless and grey
Cowering beneath their coats
Is it a wonder to any
That I often cry?
That I turn away?
That I despair of my surroundings?
My head raised, I open my eyes
To watch my breath rise
A prayer, of sorts
For deliverance
Just then a break in the clouds
Allows me sunlight, momentarily blinding
Perhaps only coincidence?
Perhaps only synchronocity?
But how great of a difference
The smallest change can make
Things before that were known
Take on entirely new meaning
The low wall; impenetrable barrier
Now a pedastol so that I might see
My arms outstretched beside me
Is it my imagination that sees these feathers?
And I know in my heart
That my life is changed
Despite the danger inherent
I would rather fly |
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