Thank You Poem by Kim Keith

There is a meditational silence
just before dawn
that draws me in, beckoning
reflections of what lies beyond
the dark windowpanes.

And sometimes, what lies within them.

And I stare at your captured image,
fuzzy, sleeping warm;
warm within that cold glass.
Smooth, you breathe
in,
out. Smooth like the glass.
I fall into that same rhythm: in,
out;
contemplating with each repetition
on the strange thought of what it would be like
right now

without the window:
the room would become cold and even though
I could make due, it is so much more
pleasant with the window in its place.
In its place with me.

I am the room.