On a postage stamp with very small letters
       

The wind is asleep on the wings of a wasp
you overstretched yourself
nothing is in your grasp.
Reached out for everything
and held hardly anything
you lived through better
and cannot hope for worse.
All things are now amiss
and you are a final kiss
on the bottom of your universe.

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Copyright © 2018 Thomas Kabdebo All rights reserved
from Ultima Ora
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission