Over my window,
Trailing down to the floor
Where it gently sweeps it
At night I leave my window open
For the quiet summer breeze
Which caresses my bare skin
And before I let myself fall into the realm of sleep,
Into the nightly reflections of my blue mind,
I keep my eyes open for just a little while,
And from my bed I observe the curtain,
Bathed in the streetlamp's orange glow,
Lifting itself,
Trembling,
Floating in my room
Like a holy ghost
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