Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Winter Wander Dream

I look out the window
So high off the ground
I watch through the
Snow-strained branches
Of the tallest tree
Within reach through the panes

No one is out there
This mid-afternoon
The neighborhood is napping

I try, but am unable to dial the phone
I hear someone slowly
Climbing the stairs
I remain hunched on the beanbag
Watching the snow
Feeling alone

I’d rather climb down those branches
Than go out the front door
I am waiting where I should not be

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