my love is a winter’s mist gently dissolving through the window at the nape of your neck.
A touch, a tear, a tempestWhen you looked out my window you could see the whole city crouched under a blanket of car smog.
UnderdogThere was silence in her head and silence beneath her window, and still she could not sleep.
UnspokenI had only to open my bedroom window, and blue air, love, and flowers entered with her”.
Marc Chagall