Possibilities

Gentle rain from heaven
It is not.
"If it were colder, it'd be snowing"
She thinks,
Pressing her fingertips to the icy window pane,
Gentle mist rising and falling
On the glass.
Moving lights on the street below
Jig through the falling water before her
And leaves and scraps of paper
Spiral down the darkened street with
Blurry figures,
Wrapped up against the cold.
Tonight, their lives and stories and destinations
Fail to grip her.
Tonight, she is in love.
The persuasive cold of the window seat
Finds her out and she retreats into
The dark apartment.

Morning comes like a deep breath
Exhaling a cloud of sparkles,
The frozen world outside her window
Stretches for glittering miles.
Today, the sun shines.
Today, she is in love.

"Pray that your loneliness
May spur you into finding
Something to live for,
Great enough to die for."

She remembers this,
Sitting in her window seat
And while the average person spends
49 years thinking,
The sky, once bruised and icy
Is full of possibilities.
And across it,
A tiny silver dot climbs high,
Scratching the translucent surface
Of the looking glass.