tHUrsDAy mORniNG ARt CLaSS
Invisible light
blinds bright
eyes no longer sea
tidal changes, in me
the deft clinician
practices her art
the old man continues
to wait, watching it all
unfolding, as a painting
of metaphors, doors
- opening and closing -
as a small child's laugh
echoes through the sadness
hues buried within the hallway
clues to my unconscious, the
view changes its perspective
riffing along on a Thursday morn,
warm coffee, feeling quiet, unborn