Word

It sits
perched
On the tip of my tongue
Waiting
to soar
Landing lightly
On yours.

Would it meet
your mind’s eye
Or would it quietly slip by
Or hide
in a crevasse
Waiting for its chance
Biding, Abiding
to find its own
in time.

Or would it
Rise above
the moment that was not
And seek
Another destiny
I watch it as it spreads
Its wings to unfold
Reaching out
Towards
Futures Untold.

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