Satin sheen,
Soft green, gleaming,
Rumpled from the hours
I lay here, still,
And watch the sunlight's patterns,
Dancing,
On the window sill;
A distraction.
Must keep from thinking,
Becoming absorbed again.
‘Live for the moment’,
They say.
But who are they?
Those with such ability
As to ignore the thoughts
That consume from within.
Nerves transforming,
Becoming more.
Butterflies, now moths,
Eating,
Eating away inside and
Threatening to unravel
The fabric of my composure.
How can I live in the moment,
When all I see
Are pretty patterns,
Dancing,
On the window sill?
