to tattered chairs,
mustard-coloured prints
and glimpses of my family
through frozen windows
The windows frosty haze blurs,
as does my view on what has come and gone
waiting on the beating sunshine’s rays
to pierce its warmth through the frost
to clear my sight
but the sun will not rise for hours, yet.
The moon trying her best to seduce the new day,
loses weight.
Horizon the gate between the two,
and yet the window stays frozen, ignoring us
And so we wait.
The season rotates as far as the horizon spans,
Time is the enemy my friend,
so let us sit and let the time enchant.
before long, I see a reflection in the moonshine,
a face drawn longer over time,
with fewer angles and more lines
feel joints stiffen in surprise,
as I contemplate how long I have been numb
outside.
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