The salt seeps in the tumbleweed’s tendrils
Solitary gaps between breaths leads it astray
The light comes and goes along its path
Lost its roots long ago
The wind toys with its destiny now
Simple and free but it desires more
In its death we only glance at its journey
But we know not where it was born
Where it has been and where it will finally rest
Perhaps one day
When life slips away so easily for some
It will be remembered
So it is as pieces gliding across a chess board
The Queen surrenders to pawns
Those she toys with and kills alike
While her King silently plots her fall
When she is weak he will set the pace
And he will remember
Salt melting and crystallizing on
Dry
Withered
Branches
Perhaps he will wonder
When the wind toys with dark hair
That he can not forget
Perhaps he will regret
Perhaps then he will tumble
Free
