sometimes i stand before
the misty window pane
the hazy scenes of future
amidst my misty reflection
blotches, smudges and patches
feelings, emotions and memories
wiping the bedewed window
my bare palm feels the cold
indelible marks emerging
forms a face in the frosty glass
looking not at,but with me
at the scenes that are yet to unfold
beyond that misty window
With the warm rays of sunshine
the mist sure will dry,
or the raindrops on the pane
wash the stains away
yet will stay my reflection
and will that face with me,
my soul in that misty window