The city itself might be disagreeable,
but on the other hand, there is a natural
beauty all around me.
I wake most mornings to small, fat-bellied birds,
stealing seeds, escaping to the roof, bobbing
their heads in harmony. If the phone rings,
each rhythm pierces the interior. A connection,
an anticipated voice, poised in time.
Invitations attended or missed;
memories kept for rainy days and cold nights.
In life, each characteristic is distinct;
we’ve suspended our reality, held in a paradox
with time spent alone, recounting words and
phrases left behind, resting within another.
Watching how they fell away caught in midair
through my turnstiles, I find similarities are
unique and never overlooked. An engaging conversation
is like a cup of coffee, its dark aroma swirling
around the lips; bitter or sweet, it satisfies;
laughter is a perfectly polished
stone held in the hand, soft as satin.
The meals prepared together with care,
a mixture of colors and scents fill the kitchen;
oven’s warmth like a blanket placed on
bare shoulders, cold breezes barricaded by
familiar voices, caressing expanses,
butter kissing warm bread, it spreads
smoothly, sustaining us with nutrition.
It’s these walls, windows, and floors,
a fortress for family or friends;
dogs slumbering at my feet, safety is here,
knowing when I close my eyes, sleep will
come peacefully, leading me into dreams.
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge Jan 1 – Jan 6, Maya Bahl challenged me with “Happiness can be described in many ways, what is your way?” and I challenged Kurt with “How the lights look differently from the city to the mountains”.