Looking forward

I try to look forward
But something invariably taps me on the shoulder
And I turn to look at the past.

In between

Doors rarely seem to open
Even when I yank ones that I closed.
I am stuck in between.
Between endings and beginnings.
Between closed doors without open ones to go through.
Stuck in a purgatory.
What dross needs to be burned away?

The dance of snowflakes

The dance of snowflakes around me,
Flakes softly stuck to the windows above
As I wandered through the plants and orchids.

I took in the fragrance of vanilla,
Enjoyed the beauty I was encased in.
All the while tap, tap, tap went the snowflakes
On the glass.
As if to say, come outside.

Leaving the cocoon of the greenhouse
I was slowly blanketed by the snow,
Silent. Calm.
From a distance, others hurried about.
But I was in a secret, quiet dialogue
With the snow and the trees.

I walked solo around the grounds,
Only accompanied by the trees
—Who were also witness to the snow—
And the crunch, crunch of snow underfoot.

Too soon the moment passed.
And I was back in reality
And among others.