Marred Glass

A reflective poem

Photo by Damla Özkan on Unsplash

Every summer,
I listen to
the birds trill
outside my

bedroom window—
finches crashing
over and over again

battling their
own reflections
leaving smudges on
the once pristine glass

like the reflections of my past.

Inside
clothes lay sprawled — 
my summertime ritual
in haphazard piles,

strewn across the
yellow, floral armchair
framing the window
denoting which ones

deserve to stay
and which can be
relegated for dispense

like the bittersweet memories I’ve shelved—

giving space for
the brightest few
to remain
in my closet

treasuring the thoughts
that I hold dear —

but knowing
things could’ve
ended differently,
had some battles—

not marred the glass.

Ann Marie Steele © 2026

This poem was published with "Scrittura" on Tuesday. In just two short days, I've already changed a few words and line spacing.  The actual birds that have been crashing on my master bedroom windows for the past month, as well as my clothes piles, inspired this poem.