Feel me drip from the tip
Of your tongue
Escape your lips
Like a sweet, sad song
Perfectly mobile
Impossible to grip
Through your fingertips
I slip
I escape
And become the air
Too far to catch me
Way out there
I’m still not here
Yet everywhere
And for that
I am no worse for the wear
Quiet like a detached tree
I am growing, I am free
From the tips of the tops
of my dreams I can see
Traveling eternity
I fall short of your demands
Illusive Intensity
Slipped right out of your hands
©jkn
