Winter Mornings
On fogged bus windows we wrote our names
Drew hearts and stars, our stories lived and stained
Our breaths of life became the canvas same
And then, from our warm thoughts the stories reigned
The cold of winter mornings brought trailed breath
Followed our pasts; the ragged hearts once beat
And life was brought to frozen times of death
Of all the kids, this breath was mine; my heat
A manifested art, contains the past
And thus I find this reflection of mine
Then I do look for far too long to last
The warmth of day now comes to here; my shrine
And now thus fades the stars, the hearts, my name
The ragged heart now dead- not breathe the same
