A frosted window sits between you and the world
the glass making the colors of spring and summer blur
brown, green, yellow and blue bleeding together
patches of today or tomorrow the passions they should stir.
Why do you stand behind the window
afraid to see it all clearly just the hues
can you embrace the moment and move
outside of the glass and just be you.
But the smeared glass also blurs the pain
the shifting colors and light not so vivid
as to fall upon you face and show you the time
to let it go, to be less rigid.
Does your heart warn you not to open yourself
to the chance that shades of gray will be wiped away
because to do so you will risk the same anguish
that have put you behind the frosted glass today
