Untitled
I press my hand
Against the dirty window
The cold glass reminding me
That it’s not yet spring
The frosty white rim
Of an empty bird’s nest
Shimmers in the early rays
Of the rising sun
The outside becomes lighter
But the view from the window
Feels like an old photograph
Grainy and fading
2 thoughts on "Untitled"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
love” like an old photograph
Grainy and fading “
There must be a new poem for summer as hot as it has become…