I stare into this empty bowl
My white spoon, black fork
Screech the sound of duality
In the orange and red will roll
Upon worry arrives the stork
Winter shaded is the vulnerability
Leave your foot prints, welcome the plow
Doubt shadows your face
Like the frost around the windows edge
Begging to be traced by fingertips
But my blisters show no grace
Inbetween your lips they wedge
To keep the silence, but the faucet drips
Drip, drop, but never overflow
I hold the water in my mouth
I forgot to stop and smell the roses
But I still swallowed without a taste
To find the soul, travel south
To shaking hands and bloody noses
Where what is savored is the bitterest taste
The only time the glass turns transparent
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