Perishable Poems

It’s strange,
how we cheer with the tunes
even when the songs are too short.
It’s lovely
how we create moments,
even when they slip
we find shapes in the clouds
and in running water
though they shift in minutes.
It’s strange
how we create
how we recreate
even when we get nothing in return.
and it’s stranger
how we celebrate
more for the things that don’t give back.
It’s strange,
but it’s beautiful
how we fall in and out
of the stanzas
of these perishable poems
that our lives often scribble.
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