The Window


Blossom petals still fall silently
and rest on the outside sill of the bay window
where my little eyes were once
transfixed
watching them land one by one, and
memorizing their colors,
white pink, red pink, white pink.
One finger pressed against the window,
trying to imagine how it would feel
to have a tiny petal cupped around its tip.
Leaving my fingerprints where they did not belong.

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