Expression Of Age

Blinking eyes at twilight see the window
Slowly fog.
The lights of the night city
Disappearing.
For those same eyes wake up
To no sun
Streaming through the window.
But frosted glass
Icy and wet.
Delicate beads of water condensed
Clinging together.
Till little fingers melt
It on the windows
Drawing smiles and trees and curlicues.
Water now slowly dripping down
In small rivers.
And she sees the world
In streams of frost and glass
And she watches the sun
Break through the clouds
And melt the frost away.
And then begins the wait
For frosted glass
Once again.