I am not a hurricane, tornado, or fire.
I am the morning mist upon a sleepy leaf;
evaporating into the sky, only to appear the next morning.
I am the rain that slowly and gently; yet quickly and roughly falls.
I am the bodies of water that can be so still; yet move eternally.
I am many things, but clear is not one of them.
xoxo,
Kayla Graham
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