Frosted Logic
Laurie Segal
sitting by the
window thoughts of you
drizzling down my consciousness
raindrops on the panes of glass
and my warm breath
leaves it's frosted imprint
'till my eyes can see no more;
the real world seems faded somehow.
my logic is deserting me
I've lost the way I'm supposed to go
tugged by gusts of wind,
beating at me
in mindless cacophony
The touch of cold glass
startling against my flushed cheek
brings me back to pine trees;
crystal drops hanging perilously to needle tips
and I am like the rain
perched silently between:
falling heavily to the cold ground;
or coming apart, in tiny particles.
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