The Window

Stained glass
Not in beauty
Light reflecting through
Multifarious colours
Rich in hue
Stained with grimy dust
From gritty city streets
The dried smear of rain drops
Desiccated rivulets
Sadness’s shrivelled streaks
I look out
Perhaps it’s truer to say
I look through, this pane
Or is it pain
To other lives
At odd moments
Here and there
More by surprise
Than by design
Light glints through grim
I rest my head against this pane
And feel its coolness against
My pain….I see your head
Against your pane
Feeling its coolness against your pain
Through our dusty, grimy panes
Perspectives of our pain
And the dried smears of former tears
Light glints through the grim

Beauty found

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