That Window? - Poem by Francis Santaquilani
That window? Oh,
That's another brother's room.
He only comes out in winter, though.
Even if he stood on a beach
Facing a golden sunset with his
Feet covered in warm sand and
Gulls chattering and skimming
Over the breakers,
He'd only see an abandoned barn
in a field of new snow ahead and
He'd only hear the crunching
Of ice glazed gravel under
His boots and an
Occasional cawing crow.
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