Empty Rooms

Distant thoughts float around like clouds in my empty room … they are cold, and when they condense they will wet the cheeks.. Hope is warmer, still. Like the raindrops that wet your skin, my words comfort me, myself, one at a time, or so I presume. I remember the summer breeze flowing in from the North, and the winter afternoons.. the happiest hours. None of which were wasted, none at all. My eyes see what they see and my heart has felt what it has felt…