Grey to blue

hushed rain
skies busted like lips,
like overgrown guilt
washing winter branches
charting slim concrete rivers
Inside 
huddled housing
windows glow yellow
glass frothed with breath,
are steaming burgamot dredges
lemon wedges,
pilled socks on wood gloss
film reels ticking
mouse clicking
time skims tea mugs
buds on dew
that gather on grass
refract a silent sky
peppered with grey clouds
blue peeks through
a silk slip
beckons
touch me.