soft breaths on the chill morn'

clouds of dust, 

unspoken words and silent desires

drift away from the thinker

does not fade, just spreads apart

eventually returning to its original spot

through night and day

mountain and river

the same desires float on

it is never destroyed

once one is breathed, 

it's there for all of time.

stardust may be akin

but alas, 'tis not created by man.

and so the desires of that cold winter 'morn

drift till the end of time.