Warmer (rough draft)

Approaching the intersection chamber,

sound departs at the door frame.

Red warmth sets in;

a few smiles, and then time for tea.

Triangular and leafy,

my sweetly chosen composition

whispers the story

of a haunting; the sentimental sort…

Familiar even in a fresh space,

the wise little birds chirp away.

They swing their wings like rocking chairs,

soothing me cool to retain one shred of thought.

In this fair parlor

whose shades make up for its shadows,

I sip away my sorrows

to the tune of a dreamer.

Fastened to stillness,

but soaring within.

Jennifer Burnside