four walls, two windows, one door
in moments past,
a lifetime long ago
what feels like four falls,
seven summers and one spring
a moment of despair or hope
sits perilously on the edge of longing.
One who was once so familiar
and now no more or less
than a passing stranger-
belonging to no-one,
pieces of everyone-
feels fatality fit
so seemingly
through the cracks
of a broken windowpane.
And her eyes (which are
the window of the soul)
feel the heaviness
of loneliness.
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