(published in the Shadow Poetry October 2004 issue)
Through a window,
I watch as colors bleed
from the jukebox sky,
leaving behind a white paper morning.
Through the walls,
I listen as a cloak of silence descends.
The once sorrowful wind
has now taken its troubles elsewhere.
Through my mind,
stray thoughts dance with each other,
flirting and teasing like lovers
who never quite make a connection.
Through the day,
I wonder why I remain in a place
where my sorrows are counted by the dozen,
and my sanity rented by the hour.
Through my life,
I have counted minutes on fingertips,
and only now feel the urgency
of one who may run out of time.