Last day of May
The sun keeps spoiling me
with a long waited warm feel
I slowly walk on the broken asphalt
...
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A natural write of slightly erratic form which follows perfectly our many racing thoughts and emotions. Maybe the little bug wrote a poem about its day in May where the wind unkindly blew it into a red haired human and how it survived being flicked away and it too later laughed with the wind. :)
With laughter! ! Thanks for sharing.