The Stranger

Began on Friday, 27 May, 2005.

Dawn caresses the tip of my eye,
Unsure, barely tangible:
Peeking at me through cracks
I’d forgotten to close.

A different light lies on the horizon,
Languid;
Soft like a new memory –
This morning does not call my name.

Reality ticks – at 7 am –
Hesitant, in my confusion
I pull back the blinds:
Outside, a stranger waits to meet me

Saffron and scarlet, crimson and cerise
Blooms suffuse the floor:
A creeping blush;
Shy silence–
This morning does not know my name.
(c) Sylphide