December 28th:

Good morning from the window, 

Across from which you sleep, 

With lavender under your pillow,

Which is covered in tears you weep.

​

The sun is just now rising, 

And yet it's clear as day.

The rain is coming later, 

But by then you'll be away.

​

Another day in lonesome.

But that's what you wanted, right?

To sleep in a cold bed each evening,

That's toasty by midnight.

​

It's time to leave the window,

The view is getting old.

The glass is fogging up, 

Though outside the wind is cold.

​

The future comes second closer,

Every time you close your eyes.

And you need to stop pretending, 

that what’s coming is a surprise.

​

Wake up, darling.