The Window That Stayed Awake
A Note from The Winter Child Poet
Some nights feel different from the rest. They don’t rush to fall asleep. They linger, watching, listening, holding something gentle in their breath. Tonight was one of those nights — and the window seemed to know it. When I looked toward the pane, the frost-flowers were turned quietly inward, like tiny winter faces paying attention. It felt as if they understood how dreams can ache when the world grows still, and how sometimes, all we want is for something small to stay awake with us. A single star pressed close to the glass, its silver glow touching the cold as softly as a friend leaning in. The night outside was deep and free, yet the star remained with me — as if stories it carried long ago wanted to shine again in this quiet room. The lamp, my patient companion, held its golden halo without wavering. The curtains breathed with the slow calm of winter. And inside that hush, I felt a question rising: Why does the light refuse to fade? What keeps it here, awake, when even the wind has fallen silent? Then a warmth appeared — so soft I almost missed it — a glow that whispered, “Do not fear. Some hopes return on winter nights.” It was the kind of warmth you feel not with your hands, but with your heart remembering something it once knew. I touched the glass gently, and the warmth drifted into me as if it had been waiting. The window glowed. The star held its place. And I felt winter itself settle into a quiet peace — a tranquility that only night can teach when it decides to stay awake with you. I wrote this poem for anyone who has ever stayed awake hoping for a little light to answer back. Sometimes, it does. Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 11th: https://alkonda.com/2025/12/11/the-poem-of-the-day-60/© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite