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Temporary Living
This breath,
woven into the fabric of my being,
does not belong to me.
A blessing borrowed,
brief in its essence,
unable to be grasped.
If I let go my tomorrow,
for some why,
on some when,
then what am I ?
A breeze careses your cheek.
So tender is each moment.
Commentary On Life Span
Perhaps a contemplation of life length or its origins. I like the notion of an exhaled breath (as life) against a cheek not belonging to the exhaler, but the recipient. :D ~Lady A~