A window
And the red fades slowly down
The tint of life wiped from creation
Trees and grass and waves seem still
Unnoticing, Unnoticed
There are answers that we will not have
(Ammonia on the sill)
There are answers I will have to give
(Which will be rather easy.
Mistrust is quite a simple thing to take upon yourself
When they only know the face of those who trust you.)
There will be another chance
For my answers to be found
(Another chance meeting, another fine greeting,
Another dull screening, despite their pain keening)
And another red to ride my window
with one more mark against my wall.














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