I am, I admit 



Of your ceiling, 

able to watch you sleep and better still

awake slowly in dim light 


Of your heavy sweaters and scarves

wrapped around your neck and shoulders

adding warmth to your warmth 


Of your vase filled with flowers

sitting on your windowsill,  calm and modest as you

admire it,  after breakfast and in the afternoon 


I am,  I admit 

jealous of the life around you 

every thing you touch 

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.