Through my glasses,
In the lens,
I see reflections of what's
Behind me.
I can see the crackle of
Tree branches against
Plastered blue infinity.
I have this stamp
Of a window,
A thumbnail, invisible.
Then light fades, taking
The small scene with it.
Through my glasses,
In the lens,
I see reflections of what's
Behind me.
I can see the crackle of
Tree branches against
Plastered blue infinity.
I have this stamp
Of a window,
A thumbnail, invisible.
Then light fades, taking
The small scene with it.