blown away

how often these windows open and close of mine

that I see well how I got here but not where I am;
“I am here”, I say when I am inside, and 
there I am, too, when looking within;
the night and it’s carousel,
the loudness of sheets in beds;
green with joy, orange with laughter,
so strangely do they sleep,
every strange soul
dreamed in to be

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *