My Window


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Brushed upon the frame
Whiteness, brash and frozen
Time stopping
Locked in battle with tomorrow
Each day wringing
Every moment
Before allowing


Bright-as-sun tulip petals
Dashed upon the crystal panes
By whispered winds flying
Scented with heat and butter
Promises of warmth
Promises bring


Silver droplets slash
Upon muted glass
Heated by the afternoon sun
As fingertips burn
Pressed against it
Longing for


Scarlet leaves falling
Splayed against the window
Stuck like glue
Musk-scented breezes slide
Until the north wind
Bellows its sails
And floats into


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