my face reflects in the window
blue lit gaze
my fingers move
across keys
while I watch the rain
the days blur into each other
even checking the calendar
can be dangerous
I counted three times 
before I was sure
that sixteen days had passed
water drops mix with fog 
on the glass
I tap the screen 
to make them dance
some fall away 
only to be replaced by others
night is quiet now
after the storm has passed
sleep steels me
in this cocoon 
until tomorrow

day 7 
national poetry month


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