Like dust in the wind all the little particles can not be collected into one.

You find them scattered among tree branches whispering stories to baby birds,

Lying out on a lawn chair listening to old vintage music looking up in the sun.

You find every particle in a different light and shade.

As yellow as the dandelions swaying calmly in front of the old barn next door,

Or as strikingly blue as the lighting that flashes in your window before a big storm.

These particles that surround everything I've touched, everyone I've talked to, and everywhere I've been.

These particles that swim within the deep marrows of my bones and float gently through my veins

Are constantly changing and leaving in every shape, color, and form.

And like dust in the wind, all the little particles can not be brought into one.


'' This will certify that the above work is completely original.''
adriana nicole perez