Nothing Is Impossible

Even when the window is obscured

entirely draped in white fabric

it can’t hide the outside,

not completely.

In the filtered light

I can still see shapes shift outside

and even a sliver left open

lets me feel the draught

of a breeze,

and inhale

the scent or stink

carried on it 

from the outside.

Even when I bury myself

in the cool white sheets,

even then

I can sense it.

And I know


what it’s like out there.

Nothing is impossible.


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