Small epiphanies leave windows ajar as
I wrap myself in your old sweater to watch
the sky’s painted scene.
I am an outsider, I feel far away
on this intimate evening, like written
words left somewhere to
disappear on wind’s wings.
My cat parts his way to drink from
his favourite cup; he lifts water
with his paw as droplets fall around
These small epiphanies are raw,
real, unrehearsed sprees of life.
I cannot reserve them for my dreams.