Through my window the barren winter brings light to
the brevity of all life’s elements.
Where can you hide?
The idealists seize the day and the elderly pass away in
front of TVs.
The young do that, too.
This morning I saw the slightest slice of a slightly less
gray dawn
and found it stunning.
The thin streak of creamy yellow just above a flake of pale
pink,
passing. I couldn’t take my eyes away.
Couldn’t conceive squeezing my body between the dull walls
we call day.
But it always goes.
All things are fleeting it’s just our favored we take note
of.
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