Where do the stray pieces go?

The ones that don’t make it to the fore?

The ones who barely scrape through,

Between the shackles of life?

Those who escape sweeping brooms

Who fall off trucks in darkness and gloom?

Others still who get blown away

Those scraps of paper that fall away

Spare buttons that fall off

The post its with hearts

The fallen leaves of autumn that flit aside

Do they find their whole?

The lines they missed

A way to get through

Do they perish un-claimed

Or huddle in crevices staring away

Watch the world go by

Or do they find their groove.

Their light

Their flight.

Their places of delight.


One thought on “Strays

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