Stephen XT
Mar 20, 2024

She raps at the window of my procrastination,
And recalls me to life. And there are days
I hear, and look out and I see her admonitions,
And smile and leave that dreadful, dreary hold.
Though, more nights where her words fog the glass,
Cold outside where I dare not go,
And fallen snow and wind take her sound,
And the candle is dim, and as I do not stir,
And she cannot long stay in the cold, she sinks back
With the deepening night, while I sit unmoved, and

© SXT 2024



Stephen XT

I write stuff when something begs to me to write. The goal is to write ten-thousand things before I die. I tend to be morbid, reflective and personal.