The sun's rays permeate
the ever so tiny angular pores
of the cascading white
that shields the window pane
blows a cool blanketed, billowing wave

My glassy eyes adjust to light
so new yet so familiar
brings about such squared shapes
with jagged edges

Let me follow words
words to a warm, orange center
words to a core
words to my soul
shown like a film upon
a wrinkled screen
hazy, yet somehow clear to me

Wisps of wind travel through
the thin cracks exposed
swiftly shifting the white
so slight

It dances almost parallel
to the old glass
dusted with faint film
of a dried yesterday

Turn the body
adjust the mind
remember what has been

Turn over again,
perhaps again
until enough strength
is gained to begin

Tangled cerulean petals
toe by tiny toe
slightly frozen
kick them away to reach
what my feet know

Other days I question
if my knees will let me rise
sunny Sunday is quite different
because its sunrise
enables my limbs and
strengthens my bones
and deeper than that
awakens my soul

It moves me
to a movement to
create a page of script
and dwindling notes
fall upon my scalp
and like a leak in the ceiling
they drip

They seep through the bone
upon wispy strands and
knotted ends
fingers surf to straighten

What will be?
I question what will become of me

It's like we're born
into something cool and crisp
when an opportunity rests
potential lies next to me
lift the sheets to set it free

Turn the body
adjust the mind
think of what will be