the caress of the blankets

a downy pillow

to rest my head on

my eyes see

the grayness of twilight

through my bedroom window

the soft light

from my desk lamp

glides slowly across the wall

pale blue walls surround me

8:30 shines brightly on my clock-radio

the sounds of voices

drift

through the air

Shoshtakovich's fifth symphony

plays almost inaudibly

in my ear

a pen is perched in my hand

closing my eyes

I dream

dream of proud

peaceful moments

no worries

my hand scratches the paper

ah

the perfect word

I face my creation

I smile

eyes twinkling

as I gaze

in surprise

at that

first ever

sparkling and beautiful

poem

which I have just written

am reading now

this poem

which no one

can treasure

more than

I