Shreds: “From the Window”

The heavy head, upon the body lain,
Adorned for festivity, in anxious strain,
Resting sorrowfully on the frozen glass,
And seeming distant, still, I pass.

I wait for thee, for hours, warm in my coat,
Within my breast, the thunder of huntsmen’s notes,
And I conjure words, my mind does bounce
On the glass now warmed, and I halt the room’s expanse.

My hands do tremble, faces weary-eyed,
‘Midst the dogs that pull, with gaze cast aside,
From the frozen glass on the square of the fallen,
If thou shouldst arrive, my teary eyes would soften.

Bruises and stains, of blows and coffee spilled,
I saw thee in thy carriage, ‘round three, I think,
Thou turned thy eyes, and then I knew, in truth,
The mere thought or dream is enough, my sooth.

I await from the well, this rainy night,
Within my breast, the dogs now do fight,
And by the glass I stand, life’s face does alight,
Paying respect to those below, in the square’s light.