It’s on the tip of your tounge

Bouncing around syllables

Trampoline talk

Rubber thoughts

This will

Be a new problem for the week

Unfolding backwards

Solving itself

When you find it again

The same feeling

Maybe a bit of relief,

Of

Course

A banded snap

A familar scent

Scene

You wouldn’t understand yet

An iceberg melts just to drip on your face

A

Boomerang explores

To end up in the same place

I am the

Same person

With a

Changing face, soaked

Put sometimes I emerge again

And accelerate through space

The grace of a challenge

The solution is : we change

But just for a moment

We won’t rot, if we have gratitude

To stay.