Dusk was ushering the sunlight out from under my feet

as my face met the west sunset.

My fingernails clicked against the thin iron nails

that pierced the fragrant, rough cherry wood

 of my favorite wicker chair.

Two petite, worn feet peeked out from under

a pale, washed-out quilt

that rested on top of my slender legs.

 

Gathering my legs close to my chest,

I winced

as sharp goose bumps arose from my skimpy frame.

Fall sent its familiar threats of night chill to my parched skin

as I locked my body into a small ball,

 starving for warmth.

Yet, I could not bring myself to reach out

 and pull the window’s numbing pane back

 to seal out the bite

 of tormented October winds.

 

Silence wafted in and out of my room

like a rolling tide on a sunlight-stained shore.

The sound of the air crusading

 down the loose creases of my linen curtains

 beckoned me

 to release the tense muscles

 in my grasping arms.

 Distant wind chimes tinkled violently

 as the last remaining bits of sunlight scattered

 off into the horizon.

My faded brown eyes embraced the darkness,

while my lips stung from

 the nippy kisses of the breeze.

 

I rubbed my legs,

as I pressed my back into the rickety weaves of wood

that ran against my backside

 in a solid pattern of diamond spaces.

My chapped lips tasted sweet

 as I traced the edge of my mouth with my tongue.

 

I took one last glimpse of the sun

 before it drowned below the cracks

 between faraway mountains.

 I drew the window back to its place

  I slowly rose from the familiar support of the chair,

and I realized…

 

This is the

thin line

between my comfort zone and the world.

This is where I go

when I’m in want.

 

This is where I curl.