A thought awakes me,
and I cling on to the memory of a loved one.
Bird song, faint but swelling,
catches at my heart,
as I pull up the blind revealing the world below.
Light beckons me,
and I press my face against the pane.
I gaze, long and hard as if searching for someone.
My breath mists the glass, and I wave it away,
"Here I am".
Without a sound spoken I have woken up the day.
It starts to breathe in a fiery crimson.
The glow burns slowly until it bleeds into the circumference of the world,
and the orchestra of colours slowly begin to play.
Cerulean blue creeps in hesitantly
while vapour trails make rough,
ragged tears across the sky.
White watermarks of clouds materialise,
a patch of indian ink cloud has burst into gold like a thunderous wave of applause.
It shimmers liquidly and pulses with warmth as it spreads.
Birds appear and glide out of view,
strangely calm amongst the unbearable beauty of the dawn.
Sounds reach me as the city begins to stir.
Someone is in pain.
A woman, white trainers, carrying a jute bag,
strides by briskly.
A bus rumbles.
Two passengers climb on,
and their day is fast approaching.
What will it bring?
An orange hat comes into view,
and disappears, bobbling
down the street after a glance up at my face.
I watch his beautiful body until it is no longer there.
I am a black smudge, soft in my dressing gown,
as the white curve of my breasts glow and long to be touched.
The gold has faded, replaced by a snowy, titanium white,
soon to be overwhelmed by permutations of slate blue.
The blue will brighten,
until it spreads new beginnings,
across the sky.
Another day is born.