Fresh, bright chill,
Dressed for the weather,
The mandala of little
Victories and losses,
The quiet place within me,
A playground,
A blanket fort,
A library.
A palace
The light within me,
Muted but unwavering,
Illuminating the path ahead,
And I walk it,
The days lengthen
And I send messages in bottles,
Wondering what some people
Feel as they read them,
If they read them
If they feel me,
Or just drawn the curtains,
In indelible ink.
MB Blissett 