Exhale

800px-Bare_Oak_TreeShe is the light in every room.
She is the shard of glass that dances across the floor
after the bulb has shattered into a million pieces,
all like her but none like her because she dances
and they only fall.
She is the open window and the curtain blowing;
she is the breeze that causes bumps to rise up on your skin
while you sleep in the middle of a naked night.
She is the bead of sweat that forms just below your nose
after the chill is gone and the twilight is torrid and tempered.
She is the morning sun that enters your eyes
when you first wake, and the first word
that pushes its delicate head through the space
between your sleepy lips. She is the inhale that follows.
I am the exhale, the emission,
absorbed into the trees.

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2 comments

    1. Oh, I agree; in art, soul is vital.
      I’m pleased you enjoyed my poem. And I’m so glad you found it contained a sprinkling bit of soul 🙂

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