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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.

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