Windswept Reality

A plastic bag twirls, caught in a dance,

it flutters and flails, against gray it collides,

yet beauty escapes in this strange, fleeting chance,

its journey a mockery of elegance bides.

Against concrete, it spins, a lost paper ghost,

mocking the winds with its tattered old tale,

yet in this moment, I ponder the cost,

for beauty’s a mask, beneath it, we pale.