• My Window

    by  • November 30, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love, Waxing Poetic • 0 Comments

    Watching the wind awaken the trees. Sliding past these brown eyes are images of seasons past. Spring. Summer. Fall.

    Without you. Healing. Seasons. Zooming past the hour glass it stands still for just one moment.

    In my window I see a face, where you and I made a stamp in the season of fall, and sent it off in an envelope. One sweet love.

    We all stop to stare out the window. Watching the seasons bloom, shine, whirl, twirl, and cascade down to a place we call home. Tucked inside where it beats and stretches, and burns for always.

    Moving from the window. Footsteps skim across the carpet. It’s time. Breathing the seasons and caught in the moment on the other side of the window.

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