By Diane Wegge

The sky is swarming outside of my window,
The colors converging: yellow, orange, navy,
I like it here in the library,
Even though I’m alone.
I still have books to keep me company,
To pass the time,
Until it’s time.
And soon I’ll be flying though the sky,
To you.

I drift away,
Lost in the beauty outside my window,
The leaves have fallen,
Some clinging, continuing to lingering,
While others have given up,
And drift through the air and on the street below.
These remnants will soon disappear,
And soon I’ll be flying through the sky,
To you.

I’m alone here often,
But I don’t really mind.
I make a cocoon here, in these books,
Floating through this land of words, billions of words,
Taking the smell of the pages,
I wander down aisles,
Fingering the spines of these treasures,
And soon I’ll be flying through the sky,
To you.

I am alone here often,
And it’s very cold at times,
But not now.
I feel the urge to smile,
Knowing very well that the time is approaching.
The swarming horizon anticipating my flight,
Ready to scoop me up,
And soon I’ll be flying through the sky,
Home,
To you.