Transition
A better place
My tears fall onto the fabric of my pillow,
A gushing stream of wasted emotion.
Carrying away all that is left of me,
A broken joy, cracked ecstasy.
My cheeks, fresh as the early morning grass;
Strewn with drops of dew.
I stare at my ceiling;
My eyes ridden of hope.
This is a game of perspective, of how I see the view.
A slight shift in time,
The dark sky of my room illuminates.
Change in mood, change in heart,
Change in the space of which I’m part.
Now, my pillow remembers those tears as memory.
My emotions have found their true place.
I live life the way it should be lived,
At least, I believe that to be the case.
I look at the sky on this chilly night,
And as the first snowflake falls on my nose,
I know,
That the day is not far, spring is near,
And if I don’t cherish when the horizon seems clouded,
How will I, when it’s clear?
