Between dreams

I'm listening to ice melt. It's funny sometimes, the things you notice when you're alone. The things you hear in the silence. The things we see in the dark. So I listen to the sound of the ice. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Cracking, dripping, wasting away.  Am I fighting my sanity? Am a living in a dream? Nothing seems real anymore. In this silence. The ice is still ice but I don't feel like myself. I'm flying maybe, maybe hovering. I see myself in the puddle below. Soft touched and looking back at myself. A looking glass of water. Am I Alice? I run my fingers over the puddle and suddenly I'm a Picasso, a masterpiece. A work of art only to be seen in the dark. I am giving way like the hardened water. Drops of me gone, a little more every day. Drink of me what you will and in the Winter I will be myself again. Sane and wide awake.