za16ao@sdccsu3.UUCP (za16ao) (08/24/83)
Bittersweet; your eyes, glassed-in pain. I want to unlatch the windows, to let a little sunshine in. -- But I am not the sun. I can only reach out my hand and place my palm against the glass, leaving, perhaps, a pale impression, a clear spot in the dust -- a silent plea: oh let me in! Arwen