Staring out a lace-curtained window
a blanket of black without stars
the sky holds a shriveled moon
tonight's omen for bad dreams
the wind withers
waiting for the rising sun

I wake to the garish sun
light blinding through my window
a remnant of sleep whithers
as my eyes blink away stars
sleep was dead, without dreams
like last night's omen moon

I can still see the moon
hidden within clouds, behind the sun
haunting me like past dreams
peering at me through a window
as if I were its lost star
without him, left to wither

In my life I wither
my face a pale moon
my story no shining star
a confused child in the sun
awkwardly reflected in windows
waiting for something better in dreams

but my nights are empty of dreams
their memories wither
I find myself staring out windows
watching the phases of the moon
until the rise of the sun
wishing on the night's first star

every evening I look to the stars
on the wind I cast my dreams
I hate waking to the hot sun
my injured heart withers
with every rising sun and setting moon
I can't break from this paint-shut window

as my fragile dreams wither
stars flicker with waning moons
sun skips across tears, gazing from a window

10/28/1997

Author's Note: This was my first ever attempt at a sestina, written when I was 18. That should explain a lot. lol.

Posted on 01/25/2003
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