Another Passerby

Endless petals

Drip down my face with the wind

Breeze rippling through my lavender shirt

Reaching through me

With the whistle of hidden bird

I, drenched in peach buds

Floating in their skin

They have the breath of coral

Fuchsia weaving through their botanic veins

Vibrant touches on the cream canvas

Sound in the silence

Subtle pulses

Quiet rushes of light

Air dances along my torso

Buoyant footsteps cross me

Those whispers pressing down on my chest

Pecking at my sides

The pristine crunch beneath their toes

As they stumble over stray freckles

Free falling through life

Through me

Like me

It’s not cold

Nor searing with heat

It’s nothing

Nothing at all

The air is vacant

No pollen

No emotions prancing through me

No temperature weaving through its translucent atoms

That doesn’t mean it is devoid of potential

There is an esoteric energy

Floating among my form

I inhale

Oxygen does not approach my lips

Just a vine of sounds

Beats and letters

Lines and volume

An echo

The echo

This echo

This poem

Another passerby.