History of one Window

A drop runs down the glass: freezing, accelerating,
A drop flows down the glass, dissolving the landscape.
Maybe it just washes away the dirt, transforming into a clean trail,
Or the world hides from the views: maybe someone's, maybe - ours.

And after a drop again a drop: it lags behind and catches up,
And after a drop, a drop again dies on the glass.
Maybe a drop, sliding down, paves the way for someone,
Or maybe the whole world divides: outside the window and on the window.
Drops fall on the glass like fingers on a piano
Drops fall on glass in the gravity of the earth
Maybe it's their quirk: to wash the glass all over again.
Or maybe they could not cross in another way.
Watercolor sketches - water overflows,
Watercolor sketches on glass as on canvas.
Maybe it is someone's memory twists,
Or maybe it's just our thoughts on a dream.
Freezing, accelerating, drops slowly flow down,
The drops slowly flow down, our feelings are not sparing.
Maybe all that is and will be a drop of time washed away
Or maybe these drops are just lines of rain.

Irina Romanovskaya