Cusp World

Lighter than a scent.
Slightly louder than
sunbeams in which streams of incense dance.

Suspension.

Of here, but mostly somewhere else.

Memories of you:
amiable, fleeting scents,
sunlight cast through trees,
or a slow and jovial dance.
Hiding,

recurring,

spinning in night.

Longing for you,
I was led, to the cusp
of this world.  

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