a moment in time

outside my window a chandelier sparkles in the tentative sunlight. a feather floats in my line of vision, emigrating from a recently battered cushion. from time to time, a clicking sound marks the fall of yet another fruit from the plant that languishes, over-watered or under-fed, in the corner under the million CDs that won't come fly with me. the book of laughter and forgetting catches my eye. things i know how to do well, a special skill. the scent of mint and eucalyptus rises from my newly massaged shoulder, and closes my eyes, for just a while.