Friday, 22 March 2013

Frosted glass

I see your breath as it frosts my window - 
your words snake like water droplets
down the back of my neck.

I look around, but I cannot see you
out there in the dark, skulking in my yard.

Thoughts like copper coins occupy my mind,
spin in the lamp's light, burnished they cascade
and disappear forever, like water droplets in the sun.

Dream tendrils in the night sway, the world's shared breaths.
I breathe out, another breathes in, mingled on the winds.

You have gone now and I see clearly the stars
winking instead, and frosting my window.
I stand strangely connected, through a glass darkly.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
Flower's centre © Jennifer Phillips

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