Caught in the nascent light of dawn,
a lifetime
written in cobwebs
on a dusty pane of glass.

The memories
flood back
as the sun's rays
surprise my face,
half blinding me
with overflowing warmth
and joy;

a warmth that soothes
the cavitation of a heart
caged in time,
like a fluttering bird,
its song remembered well,
if now but faintly heard.

Tendrils stretch
to gain the portico,
hoping it will hold aloft
the thin veins of truth
etched on leaves,
whose shimmering is backlit
by the sun god's promises.

So, too, the small red flowers
in their glass, Venetian blue,
desiccated now, and dying,
their petals fallen,
but their scent still held in memory.

Memories are strewn so carelessly,
across the table,
their reflection caught
by sunshine on the patina
of age.

At length, the sun goes in
behind a cloud;
it's time to break my fast,
for life bereft of dreams
lies in this new day
and beckons me.