Rise

I rise, white eyes
blaze glazed dazed.

Horns ring out sheer
shrill trills. With each
breath flooding blooding
lungs like wings.

I rise, full flight across
the grey morning clouds
tinged with the eager light
of the sun.

Warmth

It wasn't mine, the warmth I felt,

It was their's,

Some hotel staff, tired in that good way

Gathered in the hotel bar,

And laughed together at their exploits,

Their labours. 

One was a young woman, at the cusp of things,

I suppose,

She waxed, a little hesitant, about the university she was going to,

Close to home, close to dad.

Another, a young man, adopted,

He mentioned,

Laughed loud, told his stories louder,

That brash, strident, smiling rise of effortful entrance.

I knew hims, versions of him,

I was him sometimes.

An elder woman was in their party

A whiskey, clinking irreverent in her hand,

Offering up warm laughs,

A little advice, an easy ear.

With a glow of pride, just hinting through,

 She told of her nieces and nephews who

had studied the best and worked the top.

And her own children? no mention.

As missing as the band on her right hand,

A different life perhaps.

One of them must have been a handy man,

Or some such, honest work.

He only spoke once, and simply,

With a curl and lilt in his voice.

A folding optimism that

Could only come from making

Things work

A couple joined them, guests.

"Newlyweds", It was bandied out, a little lurid.

They all smiled,  washed in that hope

we have for everyone.

Almost drunk, the couple chatted freely,

He worked with grease it sounded,

She as a p.a.

This weekend, the next drinks

All they could afford,

All they wanted.

I sat away from the fire,

Warmed, alone with a laptop,

A bank of numbers flashing across my screen.

Likelihoods, weren't matching up,

Parameter estimates were good though.