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