infinite time to reflect on vital things
sentient and alive as the sun carves beneath my skin and mandarin segments linger on my tongue, to the tune of childhood lunch-boxes
i am like a blackbird lingering at an empty water trough with the promise of being satiated, desire imprinted upon me
once i was a wee girl with silver-buckled shoes who danced in a swirling emerald cape, and safety beckoned
now i look inwards, getting lost as synapses jostle in their reconnection-recollection
with infinite time to reflect on vital things
Iona Winter 
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