Windowsill


The frost approaches, but the heat is still
and I sit here on the windowsill
For there is no sun, but constant shade
This surely not the life for which I was made
I feel no kiss of sun, but I feel its flame
No synthesis, and my life-force wanes
If only, if only I was outdoors
Leave this sill forevermore
But, alas! I must remain!
Attend my post till frost again.

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