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A sublime moment in time; a stunning unspoken rhyme.
A minstrel and a mime tormented a tragic little kite.
The winsome wind carried it far from their subdued sight.
The wind was whispering sweet nothings to the rays of light.
Butterflies, birds and bumblebees rode the balmy breeze.
Quiet children sprinkled sand on their outstretched hands.
Seventeen of those tots sprawled across Spring's sweet lands.
The wind wove itself through the town's tired tapestry.
Traipsing through twenty-two rows of Sugarberry trees.
The zephyr suddenly stopped in its tracks then it vanished.
That gentle puff of air had not been unduly punished or banished.
It would find another singular moment at some future point in time.
It left behind a puzzling enigma for the befuddled minstrel and mime.
Learn more about this author, S.C. Kleinhans.
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