Should you find the day vanishes
against the pane to imitate
darkness that slips its fragmented
fingers into your soul by chance,
tune your heart and mind to the breeze.
The magic windsong is subtle.
Gauzy breath ignites, fears vanish
into the gently stirring breeze
alongside mere imitations.
Fate welcomes a window of chance
grasp its hand before it fragments.
Framed in light, stars shine glass fragments
of new hope and not so subtle
cravings carve incredible chance
in concrete so as to vanish
stifled need from imitations.
Float new beginnings on the breeze.
Time and place shift through open breeze,
channel to connect fragmented
dreams only schemes can imitate
hearts align and shine through subtle
eyelet starbursts where seams vanish
on lacy frills and wind chime chance.
Tangled stars breathe life into chance
caught up in a dizzying breeze
can’t sleep, don’t want dream to vanish.
What would we see if the fragments
fixed themselves to the less subtle
surface? Where deep lies imitate.
Look within, no imitations
no scattered remains, just chance
blended with sunrise as subtle
as a whimsical dancing breeze
so light, the teardrop-stained fragments
sparkle with joy, pain vanishes.
Trace hearts on the breeze, imitate
nothing from past fragmented chance.
Sighs vanish into subtle night.
I liked the window prompt from Tuesday and wanted to share some older photos that I took of windows near the Frisco Heritage Museum and this is as far as I got. Wednesday is supposed to be a lighter day of writing for me, but then I took on this monster of a form. I didn’t expect it to take me a day and a half to finish. Not sure if I did the last three lines properly. Out of all of it, that’s the part that tripped me up the most. It was kind of fun to play with, but let me just say if I never write another sestina, I’ll be okay with that.