Page 13 - Contrast1982Springv25

SNOW

The lacy snips of cobwebs
drift silently through the night -
sifting through the empty blackness
covering with pristine film the haunting street lights.

Kirsten Anne Nystrom

WINDOW

I sat at the window
and watched the raindrops
weave patterns on the smooth pane.
The grey outside
penetrated the glass
and I was grey inside,
and cold
like the steel
which shares the same color.
The vacant sky
seemed to cry my tears
and I was the one
who wove
the patterns on the pane.

Toni R. Epstein

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