outside my window i see the leaves of a grapevine sometimes at night the sky is bright each leaf is black against it dark hands i stretch out my arms toward them but there is nothing to hold they are outside and only leaves silhouetted. like the gates of the wintergarden
looking
looking
looking
outside my window i see the leaves of a grapevine sometimes at night the sky is bright each leaf is black against it dark hands i stretch out my arms toward them but there is nothing to hold they are outside and only leaves silhouetted. like the gates of the wintergarden