January 1, 2013
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All I want to do is lie here
on the hardwood floor, varnish
sticky against my skin.
I'll find a patch of sunshine,
my own little patch, undiluted.
I want to feel the silky-warm
caress of the dusty beams
on my face and hands, outstretched
like I am forever leaping,
quiescent as a memory.
I don't want to think
for a change, don't want to reel
my thoughts in, sort them and
toss out ones I don't like.
I just want to let them float away,
free as released balloons
drifting into the azure eternity of sky.

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