As I look I see the streaks
I missed with less vision, and then,
Noticed with a new and wisened eye,
Gossamer dust through the air adrifting.
Then imagined angels caressed their wings
On my window - not my cleaning failure
And I changed my mind from black to gold,
And saw "flying things" - a new adventure.
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)