minimalistic thoughts of yesteryear
one by one they left this place
a metaphorical mess
and I was left all alone
to my many devices
certain I could figure out a way
to clean things up
the morning light arrives
hours after I first stirred
shuffling my feet
to the rhythm of a fancy beat
repeating a little ditty
I recall singing in my dream
windows are everywhere
and in the dark I find each one
lifting the storms
and bringing in fresh air
whether it be cool or warm
or whispering silence
sitting at the kitchen counter
I am taken to places
I’ve not yet seen
a ripened orange in my hand
magically unpeeling itself
before my very own eyes
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The orange unpeeling itself is such a surreal ending.
to me it’s like a flower opening – thank you for your comment