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.