Window.

April 7, 2013 § 4 Comments

The windows slid open
as the breeze quickened
into the room.

Phantom pains of sun
rays pace in translation.
Transitory, transient,
elusive and resistant.

And a blank face.

When the leaves turn ragged
and rigid, they defy their
make. I run my fingers in
them, through this open window.

Because i never bothered giving it a screen.

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