Entangled

The gnarled and naked limb

Reaching for its sun

Within its graying fingers

The string, woven and spun

A joy from warmer days

Also hoping for the stars

Trapped within this wooden grasp

Leaving chafed and aging scars

Its urge to float diminished

But still aloft, it dreams

A strong wind still brings hope

But alas it always clings

Perhaps the knots will loosen

And one day the string shall fly

Or perhaps it twists forever

Grateful for its piece of sky

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