Elegy of silent windows
Of wind in the boughs of the trees
Of the plain of lights
Wrapped up in a grief
The crest of roof broken'n' left
Walls overgrown of grass'n' wine
Whate shrub washed down of drops of storm
Windows bunged with rotten boards
And just the birds live here
Wanderers from distant hills
The bringing' the breath of a space
Breath of unreal impetus
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