Fresh

Fresh
Like drops of dew
Like a newborn's tender skin
Like that inevitable fight
Against the God of death
Like the summer breeze
Hot, but sordid
The deception
Cast in the magician's hat
The rabbit hiding behind applause
Or counting the stars
With your pinky finger
Come, let's run on the sand
Watch the waves together
The footprints will wash off
I'll just melt into the water
An endless essay
On poetry.