Markings on Transparency

Last night I was cleaning, the dusk settling low,

my thoughts tangled up with the sun's golden glow.

On the window, reminders of daydreams and dust,

fingerprints linger, unspoken, yet thrust.

Each mark is a memory, each smudge a small tale,

a moment suspended, where silence can sail.

The sunset poured in, leaving traces of light,

as I pondered the words that drift out of sight.

Reflections of shadows, a mind full of fears,

the glass shows the world as it quietly clears.

The beauty in smudges, the soft touch of night,

leaves a landscape of thoughts, where shadows take flight.