Hanging beyond

Slipping between the clouds of another day

my thoughts move in colors blended

like thrift shop glass stacked

one upon another upon yet more

we piece through, examining each

looking for the perfect one

knowing somewhere it will be found

when least expected.

I slip into a place of peace

wandering aimlessly down aisles

merely listening to the chatter between

one wall and another

one form asking nothing of importance

then silence falls around me

where no one is there at all,

and I gaze about me

flipping through the pages of a tattered volume

lost in the words of another

and slipping it into my meager pile

happy for an unexpected find yet again.

The sun has slid away beyond the windows

and the air tame after days of wild winds,

clouds stacked like shelves above

and I stand here feeling as if a blanket has found me,

light and soft and perfectly colored

suited to the whimsical mood and emotion,

in this place I close the door gently behind me

with a bag in hand

I move forward to escape to the blue room

where my words will join the rest

sentences stacked upon each

eager for eyes to see

content to just be written.