It's cold.
I close the window
Questioning if its the bright-low light from the morning clouds
That are also unsettling me.
Coffee. Me time. Tired.
Jogging in my mind,
Through the races and streets of it and me,
Him and her,
Life and us...
Where and what
Where and what
It all means.
Put on another comedy
To start the day, the way it feels right to relax.
Hands are reaching out of the distance,
And holding me. Hugging me.
My soul cries.
No comments:
Post a Comment