windows
hush the formal flowers of dawn
they swing so sweetly
against the grain
wiping the trails of starlight
from the oaken hewn sky of time
the simple blunder of time
creating the rocky waves
laden with doubt
and shivering, crying for warmth.
oh sands of sadness
wash away my pain
my counterbalance widow begs, screaming
blue-struck, she falters
ripping
her hands lift gently from the sharp rocky shore
blood marked and cut
to bring notice to her wounds
she lifts her eyes and gazes upwards
expectant, surprised, in wonder
and alive