The bed feels more comfortable now,
My smile feels wider somehow.
Thunderstorms feel like white noise,
Maybe the sun shines out of choice.
I read out of sheer pleasure,
Not just inevitable closure.
Music, certainly not just escapism,
Rekindling life and idealism.
Realisations had me wonderin’,
About exhibitions of chagrin.
Dance, music, very poetic,
Past, gloom, antithetic.
