I can feel something else in the room <br />in a movement, a changing shadow <br />some kind of blur; it's a hint of <br />something or someone not me. <br /> <br />Never frightened or anxious, <br />more curious than anything else. <br />I grow still; strain to focus my eyes <br />but nothing is there to see, never is. <br /> <br />In another mindful little moment, <br />the room itself seems to change <br />its vibration around me, then it's gone; <br />all that remains is pure speculation. <br /> <br />Vivid imagination? Too many movies, <br />far-reaching tales of the unknown? <br />Perhaps, but for me a sensitivity <br />known and grown from childhood. <br /> <br />I've learned to listen with all my senses. <br />I can feel that I am not alone, and I don't mind; <br />because it is a peace and comfort <br />that has always left a smile behind.<br /><br />Carolyn Brunelle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-i-feel-23/
