PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Resting my eyes

Down to the streets below

The wind is frosty breath

The white is drippy snow

The glass is showing a 

smudge worn handprinted

Chicago

I blink my eyes in rapid strokes

To keep a head from tumbling under

Strenuous effort to placate the tears

I decide to cry

I think.

If I didn't  cry

I think I would lose some of the color

I would miss some transcendent moment

The rain would be cold 

And wet

I decide to cry