July 24, 2026

A silver-winged dragonfly
landed on an apple blossom,
delicate legs caressed the pale
pink petals. In a brief moment
it was gone, flitting to a more
sturdy perch within the copse
of spring trees.
A moment of fleeting grace,
unattainable by mere brushstroke.
Our hearts flutter in time with
the insect’s translucent wings,
each breeze a manifestation
of fantasy and hope.
I close my eyes - breathe
in the scent - taste the fragrance -
its mysterious magic relegated
to my dream of
presence.




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