March 2008

What is this time and place?
Three clocks tick in unison
As rainwater drizzles down gutters outside
Sounds so penetrating
Though soft enough that the scratch of my pen is louder

In a room so solitary
Yet so friendly
With books arranged neatly on shelves
With dust wiped not completely away

A colorful bright room
Awake and calm
Fresh nighttime air seeps through my window cracked open
And my bare toes hide under
Blankets of black and white

What is this time so perfect
That I cannot possibly share it with anyone else?