The world washed in white
But the windows are my plight
Tiny dances form on the glass
The swirls are calling me from class
The air is cold and my heart is warm
How much longer will the dance storm?
It’s white, it’s clear, it’s blue, it’s frosted
Now outside, see the well. It’s crested
For along with white powder down
Jack comes, waiting for my breakdown
I see the lake, frozen by his fleeting feet
His cold antics prove me a beat
For designs now swirl on the trees
Can I touch him without a freeze?
For his touch and ice embrace me
So now from this world, I flee.
An Open Window 