Window Glass
We take down the linen
that hangs above the windows.
Light goes in before
the sun goes down
over the collection of trees
that line the hillside.
In love lies the promises
one refuses in youth;
we have taken these promises
as vows against age.
A petal from a vase, dropping
upon the piano.
We too are a long and drawn out
strand of light, ending upon
the dry wood of a bedroom floor.