Sensations Poem by April Swanson

I am desolate and in the dark, with feelings vacant; unfilled.
I am as numb as my toes in the snow.

The winter nights feels like all the others-
dark, cold, with the touch of depression beckoning me.

Each powerful, and resistant of command.
Each breath I take leaves my lungs caged with icy bitterness, and my skin left tingling.

Morning is coming. The air begins to warm,
And I am no longer stuck with the emptiness of the night.

The days grow longer, yielding and filled with promise.
Negativity does not pull down as much; it is bending and breaking with each passing moment.

My shoulders no longer feel weighed down with impossibilities,
And I look towards the horizon as it begins to blossom with colors, changing and being its’ own.

And I look towards the fields, Miles and miles of encouragement,
Painting a picture in my mind.

They day has just begun, a snap-shot only to the naked-eye.
Many wish to see these days in its splendor, but few actually see.

The sun begins to soak up nights’ way of doing, and spreads it’s’ beauty, a job needed done just right.
Several can paint the picture, but the image in the heart is far more graphic.

So the night gives way, if only for a little while.
It is days’ turn now, to sculpt an image fit for perfection.