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Infant writer Apr 28
I sat by the window,
Opposite to trees.
My head was aching
For I had a sleepless night.
The sun shined,
On the broken windowpane.
The yellow leaves were shedding
Off their companions.
The cold breeze slipped through the broken windowpane
And whispered something in my ears.
It calmed my mind
And my pain vanished.
The door, in the room, opened
And she entered.
Everyone stood up, I didn't.
Obassi Bholai Jan 27
i would much rather see dried tears on my pillow than another person in the same bed with me.
not putting more strain on an already broken and irrepairable heart by letting someone in again.
loneliness comforts more than the warmth of another nowadays and that’s how i will stay.
that is the way it’ll remain.

a view through the windowpane was the last thing she left
added to the silhouette of a bloodstain on the bed we use to share where she stole my heart as i laid
covered by sheets still felt by my soul.
5 years of my life, gone.
Tanay Sengupta Sep 2018
Do you feel her pain?
A chilly breeze
Followed by a nocturnal rain,
You can hear her sneeze
On your windowpane.

You can hear the wind howl in pain.
As the clouds invade the sky
Her efforts go in vain,
She kneels down to cry
And her tears drop on your windowpane.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
Uploading something after a long time. Let me know what you think about it.
Pauline Morris Jan 2017
Splitter splatter, pitter patter,  rain dance my cares away
Pitter patter, splitter splatter, on this cold and lonely day

Doing your tap dancing on the crisp Fall leaves
In your rhythm all my worries are relieved

Slapping out the tune on the old evergreen
The most beautiful sound I have ever seen

Splitter splatter, beating on my windowpane
Trying to break my heavy mental chain

Pitter patter, rapidly tapping on the glass
Trying to warn me, of shadows yet to be cast

©Pauline Russell
Karan Aug 2015
Bright, sunny rays fall
On the tip of my window pane
Some go back; some cross the wall
Lighting up my otherwise dull decor

Three books,a pen ; A clock,three hands
And an old poster of Kurt Cobain
Clinging on its heels like a ballet dancer
On a tightly hammered rusty nail

An old,wine-colored music set,
A box of discs and a candle stand
Fired by the sun rubbed sulfurous sticks
Rooted calm and firm by my window pane

Wind creeps through on a balmy day
Takes my curtains to a fancy ball
On Cuckoo's song and wind chimes tone
Hustling sound acts as a background score

Rains come by , to give a wash
To the tips of glass and my tired mind
Dims the gleam of my fresh bright paints
Sets my mood for a romantic date

So, what else do I need to spend my day
A comfort chair and a pointed gaze
Glued to my seat i watch the show
That starts right from my window pane
© Karan Wadhwani
Please suggest changes if you find anything wrong :)

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