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Glass Stains

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Glass Stains


I see a dirty glass window

Of an old little store below,

From our flat across the street.

I stare and wonder on my seat

On the events that took place,

Like solving a mystery case.


Are those stains a way for lovers

To send each other their verses?

Or suppose those smudges were there,

Made by somebody in despair?

Whatever happened in the past,

We can only guess as much,

The possibilities being vast.

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