Untitled (. . . ice-encrusted window)
    by Donald Riggin

 

Peering out of his ice-encrusted window
(The ice is on the inside), the child’s attention
Focuses on ice crystals
Melting with every warm breath.

Once they’re gone they’re gone;
Water drips onto the bare wooden window casement,
Disappearing into the rotting wood.

Nothing lasts for long and
Nothing survives, except perhaps
False memories and broken promises.


 
Hi,

Here’s a depressing little poem.  Just thought I’d give it a try.  Thanks.

     Don