Skylights Poem by Hans Ostrom
Skylights
My soul, in search of skylights,
Climbed flights of stairs,
Hit its head on attic beams,
Fell over cast-off chairs.
It went back down to rooms
Of routine, fearful days,
Persistent anxious nights,
And weary, wearing ways-
Went further-to a basement,
To be desperate and low,
Stumbled there on blueprints
For skylights, what do you know?
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4/26/2024 7:31:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
