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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Entry Two from the College Journal poetry writings.

Floating through the cool, crisp air

I am a speck without any care.

Clinging to anything that passes by;

Could get caught within an eye.

To your clothes, I hold on tight.

Being trapped is an embarassing sight,

then with fingers I'm flicked aside.

Falling on the ground just to die


Submitted: November 09, 2016

© Copyright 2021 A. K.Taylor. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



What a perfect description of those little specks. Well done!!

Wed, November 9th, 2016 6:59pm


Thanks. I still hate those pesky things though. Hahaha.

Wed, April 12th, 2017 5:47pm

B Douglas Slack

I have always been troubled by those little specks. Turns out, they're called 'floaters' and the drive me crazy. Externally .................... RUN! The sky is falling! LOL.


Wed, November 23rd, 2016 4:56pm

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