The Balcony Beyond the Glass

My ice cold feet meet warm, beaten wood, 
As dainty white jasmines float down to my feet.
The mellow sun peeks over the roof,
Accompanied by a frosty morning air.
As the sunlit leaves sway in the breeze,
They sing softly to me as I gaze at the cloudless blue sky.
My hands run over every bump, every crack,
Of the age-riddled wood,
As Time stops when the sun comes to rest in me,
A warmth overflowing my body,
From the hairs of my head to the tips of my toes,
As I bask in the radiance of life clustered around me.