Kunst

Miles flash past
wide frames,
Mounted with glass,

as behind,
shades drag and
change scenes.

Voices change too,
Narrating the path
of narrow rails.

Twisting streets
around this time
with distorted view.

Heights grow, and
hide beneath the sky
for hearts to love.

The frames change,
And remain,
Against fruitful image,

Painted and breathing.

image

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