2020 Hour 6: Perfect Day
My wrist watch, high on something sassy and chilling out
Using its hands to knit a sweater for the sky
And giving the atomic clock the finger.
Breathe in, blow out the chilled air
My bare hands ice packs that I hold to my cheeks
To remember that I’m alive.
My feet have mapped out the city
Footprints repeated through the maze of blocks
Treading each like friends who meet, hug, and depart.
Quiet is both my companion and shadow
Broached occasionally by a cacophony of my thoughts
Which walk with me arm in arm.