They waft like picturesque leaves
All about in another time and place Memories were floating from ages past
And those not yet formed
While I was stitched together in the
Familiar and not
They came into the birthing room Landing on the sticky poster board,
A living collage, my story
With a simple word at the bottom,
My name.

The genes I wear, so comfortable,
What color are chromosomes,
What is their scent?
No matter
They are where I have been,
Desire to go,
To walk or run,
To lean or stand or cry
When I watch the clouds drift by.

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