I can see the whites of the rooftop
emerging through the tree branches
as the leaves fall away,
giving way to this barren scene.
The trees have shed their load
and the skeleton branches
sway in the unrelenting wind,
which whistles through the window frame.
No smoke rises from the chimney
of the house, the windows remain dark.
Sometimes, it feels closer, the white
memorising, before receding out of sight.