Air
Whoosh, the wind through olive trees,
tugs my dress with gentle ease.
It brushes neck like whispered breath,
soft and quiet, light as rest.
Flit-flit, white butterflies fly,
soft as ash, then say goodbye.
Chirp-trill, birds sing wild above,
messy songs full of love.
Buzz of heat on sun-warm skin,
wind curls slow around my shin.
Agolli spoke of roots and rain,
but I was born of sky and pain.
Let others burn or sink or drown,
I float where silent dreams fall down.
My breath is light, my heart is bare,
you’ll only find me
in the air.
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