Look, passers-by
through this window now
at the bulbs to dream under
and sit and see
how the eye of your mind
might understand
in a corner’s beginnings
where laughter, words
and the music echoes
into welcoming the silence
of the walls and their secrets,
a keeping-place
while in the distance
out in the street
see drifting souls, the strollers,
a scene from this point
that may disappear,
touch you at the quick
as devotion will
and reflect on the glass while
all the mist through
it lingers.

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