Blue wind upon a distant windowpane, <br />I hear you whistle folk songs to the rain <br />In tune with leaves that have no place to go. <br />Last light becomes the only home they know. <br /> <br />My friend, I feel your hand upon my skin. <br />The essence of the mood is paper thin. <br />Against the awesome turning of the earth, <br />Warmth has about a cup of coffee's worth. <br /> <br />Previously published, 'Poetry Depth Quarterly'<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-light/
