truth

I awoke to the dry sound of silence
The rain had stopped
And the city breathed on the glass pane of the sky,
Opaquing it with mist,
So I thought I could stretch
To write my name across it in clear letters.

The underside of the day was still wet
But the air,
It was warm
And something in its winds filled me with hope
Whispering over puddle reflections
Through dripping leaves
To tell me that I’d be alright
Wherever I may roam,
And next year I’ll be back here
In December I’ll be home.