Choices
Icicles will melt, rains will come and go.
Nature strikes us deep with awe, at her every show.
Whose turn to turn another leaf, fall prey to pity or to grief.
Spread wings to finally fly or face a silent grave to die,
We choose the motions of our sun and moon
For in the back of every mind there plays a tune.
And from the place that forms our voice
We lasso every moment’s choice.
But no one speaks or has a say to reach the ones that got away.
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