Windowsill

Your life is on the up and up

Mine is dripping down the windowsill

Catching dust as the drops

Seep into the mildewed cracks

I peek around the corner and brace myself to find

My dreams were true

And all is not well

So I wish in the well that used to be

And carry the dreams 

I used to have like burdens

Instead of wings

But I'll carry them

If just to let them die

In the right time and place

And get old with them

Watch sunsets and sigh

But avoid mirrors and my face

And I'll come home in many years

You'll all be old

And I'll have stories

To tell the dust 

Streaked windowpanes