Smoky tendrils drift up
fighting against the cold
only to fade moments later for bravely being bold.
Replaced by more frail whisps gliding towards the sky
hoping to be victorious,
no part of them left to wonder why.
Are they all the same?
you think this in the time that follows their absence.
Is something to blame?
Like they so often do so to themselves.
Non-existent or just invisible for now? Because there’s a mighty difference.
They rise again
This time do they know of their fate?
I like to think they do.
They’re not oblivious to the struggle even though each time it is brand-new.
like us it is just as much what pushes them to try get through
Thank you for reading! 😉 I hope you’re having a beautiful day ❤