noone
I am a thread. Small and fragile. Flowing whichever way the wind decides to take me. Sticking out of your coat threatening to fray.
The fox so beautiful and gleams in the sun running through theforest. It is bathed in the red light of the setting sky. BUt I cannot tell if its red is from itself or the light. Perhaps the fox reflects its glorious color to the sun itseld.
I wrote what I had for float. But I'll rewrite it. I float down a moat in a boat holding onto hope like a rope that might save me from drowning. I float up to the ocean floor and down into the air.