Sunrise

The children have gone off in bright yellow buses,

parents grab keys and walk through doors to the

cars that will get them to work. Sun lands on my

blanket warming it steadily. I can hear the faint

sound of strings being strummed ride in on the

light. Like a flower bed blooming, or a sunflower

following its beloved, a voice rises, joins the strings.

She is heaven coming through the window. "Holding

someone here who has already disappeared..." Who

I wonder? Her voice quiets as the strings stop. Only

the sound of the day remains.