Caught in the wild a bag spins free

Caught in the wild, a bag spins free,

its journey a tangle, a ghost of debris.

Once bright and crisp, now dull and worn,

flapping against branches, tattered and torn.

I watched it twist with a heartache sting,

where beauty once lay, now an empty fling.

A promise broken, it dances alone,

no grace in the whirl, just a fate overthrown.

No grace, just a sigh in the storm’s cold breath,

a reminder of life, the weight of death.

Not beauty, but burden, as it swirls and spins,

a plastic bag caught, where hope begins.