THE WINDOW
Your hand searched in the dark.
But was it me you searched for?
Or was a dream that made you move?
I climb out of bed, and stare down at
you.
Its 11 o'clock on a Saturday night.
And I'm more alone with you than
Without you.
I turn to stare out the window.
I hear the soft whistling of your
breath behind me.
The window glass is streaked, stained,
tainted.
Or is it my heart?
You mumble in your sleep.
But I just stare out of the window.
In my mind's eye, its a portal to
my wishes.
I blow a wish into the sky and
close my eyes.
I slowly stand up and come back
to bed.
And your hand searches in the dark.
---Toni J.