Scraps

Even in those moments
That drift aimlessly,
Tattered scraps
Snagged by the wind,
A halo shimmers
In the eye’s corner,
Flooding the shadows
Without a care.

Love is stubborn,
Finds a way of coming,
And this is grace
Given wings that sing,
Mending time’s  tapestry;
If only to taste
Before all goes to waste.

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Filed under Love, Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts

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