On one hand

On one hand
the space
white page
is not
(at times)
warm enough
for words
that could,
should
be nestled
on pink paper.

On the other hand -
window frames gum trees
and an early kookaburra
flits in and out of
frame.

my window is has no future.
At night, like words on paper
it reflects the writer.
 

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