mourning song

pinpricks of light
filter through the coarse, woolen, woven blanket
that hangs ersatz and heavily
from the half-hidden nails above the windows
and onto
the two bodies twined together,
sleepy and rumpled
from the mournful bird song
that accompanied
the harsh light.

one body,
slender,
sat up quickly,
raced to the window,
tears streaming down her face,
placed a small warm hand
to the smooth cool pane.

the other sat up slowly,
yawned sluggishly,
and eased herself to her elbow,
murmuring questions
and beckoning that
she come back to the warmth.

the first stumbled back
and pressed her face into the shoulder
of the first,
finding solace and comfort
in her arms.

"what's wrong, my love?"
soft, whispered words,
like a feather blanket,
enfolded the first,
and she shook her head,
unable to explain but for

they sound heart-breakingly sad.