truth is freedom

The sun inches its way
over the rooftops
behind pastel clouds
its flecks of gold filtered
finding my skin through the trees.
Cool breeze and the lull of morning traffic noise
and the comings and goings of
people in a rush
on the sidewalk below.
I sit with the essentials:
coffee, cigarettes, notebook, pen
while inside
his rhythmic breathing and
the flickering of dreaming eyelids
continue in his shadowed bed.
And no one sees me
as they don't look
this high up.
No one but the squirrels.