i often draw messages in the condensation on the windows in our bathroom;
they don't last for long,
they are a whim,
they are melting before i even leave the room
and you always get to them when it's too late.
I once read a short story about how every time we exhale, a little piece of our soul goes with the breath. We usually get it right back after we inhale again--but you really shouldn't be breathing onto mirrors. :) This aside, I love this poem. Short and sweet, and very clever.
A lovely note on how we often try to make that great effort through the little things. The image here is quiet and beautifully captured. I hope they notice sometime soon.
