Yawns of Frosted Glass

Imperfection,

That yawns through

The dawning wrinkles

While the pines drip

Of quiet morning reluctance

In sub-zero grays

Making love to a

Feisty eye behind

Frosted glass

Which,

When gently caress

The restless everything,

Creates a coupling

So twilight-like beautiful,

It

Devastates.

Shruti Rao