Space Filler By J.Marie Dearwechter

Big city, sirens, waves of light, I open my bedroom window.  Echos blast, penetrating any one mans  sanctity.  The air is cool, dampened by a fall rain.  I watch my curtains breathe in and out.  

So many people, so many sounds.  The occasional inadvertent conversation in the stairwell, laughter, fighting.  Thuds and thumps, sliding doors.  The blue glow in so many windows, a beacon of common ground, but just a reflection. 

The night sky, so hazy here,  big city, vague stars.  Small city, big stars, big dreams. So many people here.   In a dream to big, you can disappear, how will you know?   I have become small, one tiny dot. 

I dreamt of vagrants wise beyond their years, poets, and painters, aristocratic outcasts, music everywhere.  How greedy, I had that dream, I lived that dream, but without recognition. 

In open spaces people will gather, they will create, they can hear, and see all the instruments, and dance to the music.  So many people here, no open spaces.