I feel it gently brush my cheek
Awakens me from fitful sleep.
Colors every passing thought
A heavy weight upon my heart.
Familiar things now teetering
Nothing lasts…so it would seem.
In this world of upside down
Temperate things cannot be found.
My soul accepts its time and space
Life proceeds with peace and grace.
Without a sideways glance…
Change begins its ugly dance.
And so I look inside myself
And pull from dark and dusty shelf,
Some things to get me through these days…
Of worry, fear, and grey malaise.
Copyright©2009 by VSchoonover. All rights reserved
