Morning Window



Each morning I stand at my window and stare out at the new dawn.

It is like a gasping addiction.


I then get back into bed and sip my cup of tea slowly,
breathing in the humid wafts of warm morning air
and listening to the sounds,
the rubbish truck and clattering bins, voices of the neighboring children,
and allow the day to unfold gently.

I am still testing the weight,
holding the losses and gains and trying to find
a place where it all makes sense.

We swish on,
past the relocation unease
and create new spaces to be ourselves in.
And friendships open and grow,
knowledge creeps in,
and beauty quietly lies mine for the taking.


Perception is still a world away
but a skin of sorts is forming,
stretching over the split seams of the past.

Underneath there are still holes that need patching
but on the surface
things are looking less fragmented.

And for that, I grasp joy tighter.

paige  – (October 5, 2010 at 11:37 PM)  

its a fuzzy place to be while waiting for it all to make sense
i think your introspection will be followed by a knowing

i love your beautiful gift with the written wordc

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