I sit

In the loneliness

Of my van

Reclined and relaxing

Staring out the windshield

At the lower limbs

Of the oak tree

I was parked beneath

Staring at the darkening

Dusky sky

Into the infinity

Of nothing

Gray cottony clouds

Slowly sailing by

Attempting to purify

This lonely feeling

I feel deep inside.

The skies

Are rapidly turning

Like a silver screen

Fading to black

Incarcerating me

In the belly of the breast

Rain drops

Darting at my windshield

Accumulating themselves

Into larger droplets

Streaking down

Towards the hood drain

To meet the rhythm

Of the wiper blades

As they dance with a beat.

By: William Bonilla

D’Artagnan

01/09/2013