Impression

What impression would I leave if I asked you to imagine Small patches of undulating light reflecting high on a warm wall, Only a twig’s space flowing in between them, Outlined by the ebb and flow of a softer shadow? Even behind the shroud of the realization That I had yet to open my eyelids, The fluid motion reminded my soul Of a time I had not yet spent, Near a body of water I had not yet found, But in a place and time so familiar, so comfortable, I longed for a return visit. Where the cool breath of the water And the mild warmth of the early summer on my skin Call me back to sleep, again. Michael Lewis 1-21-2010