Read Poem: SunBeam, by Christopher Wimer

One of my earliest memories
That comes to me
Every now and then
Is sitting on the floor
At grandma Mary’s
I remember
Not unpleasant stale carpet
Warmed by the sun
Large box television set
Watching Bob Ross
Painting trees
Behind the television
Was a window facing East
Letting in the morning sun
Beams of light would appear
Highlighting pieces of dust in the air
Little ships
Little souls
Swimming around like little fish in a living room sized fishbowl
And then waves roll in
Waves of thin pleasant pipe smoke rolling in
Finest sheets of silk
So thin they float away
And melt into the air
They roll
And flow
And bring the air to life
So much activity
Made visible in the light
Little dancing particles
Dancing in and out of sight

Author: poetryfest

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