box

It’s a flirtatious gesture
The way that gold shimmers against the brown’s shoulder
What transpires is a dance
With my eye carefully taking lead
of an intricate arrangement of steps
I move forward
The pattern shifts
The climate melts under the different
But the cloud formation remains the same
It will not leave me
When I struggle, it shelters itself
Glowing back with invention of conviction
For that’s what it has done
Why so unaware of the innate beauty
Granted?
This box has been taken
For granted.