Window Shopping

March 11, 2011

I think of her now and again
Through the window of a Hank Williams song,
Simple and without decoration,
Save for the dust across the pane.

Then I sing to myself sometimes
Those songs that paint the memories fast,
Steamed and running upon the glass,
And lose myself between the lines.

But when the song comes to its end
And the music drips away to silence,
She is lost to some forgotten tense,
And the blinds are drawn against me, once again.

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