Sitting in the sun,

I am a daytime firefly, hovering over the blue sky, watching my shadow in the fountain below.

I seep, the glare bouncing off the naked whiteness of the sheet with blue ink.

I recall a lunch I once ate, reclining on a bench under a maple tree and the gaze of one whom I had just kissed.

I think now: that perhaps it was just a figment of imagination, a dream tinged with sudden forceful reality.

I note Time has passed and in it's passing had abraded the pain, into a smooth rounded reality, sans any jagged edges.

I don't question anymore the scheme of things, fate, right or wrong, as these things play themselves out like a toy slowly unwinding.

I hope I would find meaning in how I live, with an increasing awareness of the vastness and mists within, in which I move dancing slowly.

I span thus: the days from one winter to another cold winter.