You can see the inevitable setup as they start from opposite ends:
These two,
sure to meet amid the others,
drawn together by some force
either atmosphere or fate
Slow-motion as they touch,
a gradual loss of each other
once they merge,
now indistinct —
settling, blending
into the other clouds,
drawn together by some force,
sure to meet amid the others.
Categories: poetry
Lovely!
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Thanks Michelle!
Sent from my iPhone
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