Sitting At The Windowsill

Sitting at the windowsillFingers stained by my inkFace red & tranquilly humbledCold & tumbled; too frozen to thinkThe nights are dropping tempsI’ll need to do everything to keep warmThough I’m unwrapping each layerEagerly embracing your gracious formLife is a fine chance to love youTrading kisses as I adjust your weary crownTelling stories of our youngerContinue reading “Sitting At The Windowsill”