Spark

Another spark of attraction making a flight
Leaping onto its side, swaying to a light
From the back of rust ornaments
From the back brittle fence
As it sits under
It sits itself down
To reach for its own and teach its known
A dampening flow moving on through
Sparing the surface, attaching its dew
Following somewhere
Yet Growing across
Left with no care
And a Little bit lost
But it carries a tune
Once heard long ago
The tune of creation
And flying alone