Endless windows intoxicate my bedroom.
depict the scenes
my dreams convey.
The frosted glass is cool against my fingertips
and melts away,
a silver liquid dripping
pooling before my bare feet.
I step into the open window,
released from the blank walls of the bedroom
embraced by the night sky—
I collect myself
underneath the reaching branches
of a lone oak tree.
It scoops me up into its arms,
and I fold myself up against its body.
like an ocean’s whispering breeze,
it drifts me back—
back through the frosted windows—
to the blank walls—
to a familiar mattress.
I am unaware of this harmonic movement,
until the sun shines through the empty walls
and the windows dissolve into them.