When Windows Pull Me Forward

When, in hours I held my harms from action,
the winds of windows pulled me forward,
And asked my leaping loneliness to
plunge the night's air affirmingly.

Refusing, I reeled and remorsed these retractions,
with hollowed heaving in gasping grief,
and my urn an ornament of deflection,
of dour delayments while I paused in patience.

Selfishly, suitors left me lorn in opaque oustings,
when lunar lights descended upon windows open,
and I lain in lost longing for all that is absent,
while windows wooed me closer to my eminent expiration.