I am writing on
foggy glass window panes
waiting for the need of you
to pass me by
and drip through
out onto the open path.
The letters take the shape
of your fingertips
as they fold over
guitar frets and serving spoons.
I already know that there is One
who never makes us doubt his love.
The others are promises
of promises upside-down
hanging from the branches by your fingernails.
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