a time to look through windows
streaked with the residue of summer
sealed with lacework of beautiful abstraction

the sun has been replaced
with eternal shadow that penetrates
to secret thoughts long left buried
treasure in oaken casks, guarded by
phantasmagoria—hide them from discovery

now secret thoughts are strewn
across a frozen ocean floor
dust motes to chase down
with mop, brush and broom
hustle back into their respective closets
with a new appreciation
for the importance of a promise kept
or broken