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The people who walk

in the streets as they talk

are a bundle of bottomless bounds

They live their lives

to feed their hives

as they fly around

making a buzzing sound

I stop to watch

their blurry blotch

and I am lost in their constant commute

Tell tale signs

say chances of these lingering lines

dyeing down are merely minute

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4j1qwo/481/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4j1uy9/a_storm_made_of_light/