things are changing
looking up
the frost of winter is dissolving
flickers of sunshine piercing ivory banks of snow
the evenings less numb
a little less quiet
winds barely whispering
enigmatic golden voices in the air
serenades for the seasons
playing brilliantly on the horizon
i can hear the music now
choruses i’d written years ago
being sung to me by hundreds of cherubs
their saintly voices echoing inside my brain
straightening the mirrors in my apartment
leveling the floors
mending the strings that hold me together
No comments:
Post a Comment