Consciousness of Other
Starting a few weeks ago
I see through his eyes-
My hands:
chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter,
scattering basil and rosemary into steaming dishes,
such ordinary, mundane things
that connect us.
The impression of grey-
like cumulonimbus clouds before a storm
dark grey with blue hints
fills my consciousness.
And I stand
as ephemeral wings beat against my ribcage,
embracing this moment
and accept his offering.
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