echoes of childhood trapped in the morning's pulse
from the open window comes
a breeze from 1964
stirrring my freckled pale arm
suddenly ...
I am ageless;
socks soft upon carpet
mindful of my wakefulness
light lies upon gray
soft
fluid
the rustle of leaves timbres
still ageless
and amazed ...
that this is life
just this one moment:
soft, gray
with senses buzzed by the light of always
