Feeling further away each night

With each night of isolation

You begin to wonder if you will see

Both of your elderly parents

Before things really begin to get better,

 

Scratching mentally at windows

From dusk to dark in a machine loop

Mentally flicking scrawls of black ink out

Your words winding up like a scarf on your neck

On the nearby lake when it freezes each winter

 

Sculpted into a new light

Carrying across your dreams

On fences beyond your windows

Watering the stony place of your childhood

Stars you are unable to hitch a ride on.