I cannot hear the birds like I can in the other room,
Just the low refrigerator hum,
Yet the sun shines far brighter in here,
Reflected in the sud-less leftover dish water,
As milk clouds permeate the smooth brown liquid.
It is comforting to feel the warmth
On my face, hands and the tip of my nose and ears,
Watching dainty, minuscule fairies dance in front of my eyes,
As the dried droplets and cobwebs change and flit in the wind.
I am safe in here,
I am at peace in here,
In my kitchen, at home, alone.