mengikhlaskan beban masa lalu
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Steam on the Windshield
The city slows to a crawl,
traffic lights blink in weary rhythm.
Hands wipe the foggy glass,
revealing glimpses of the world outside,
a forgotten biscuit tin holds needles,
threading memories with every stitch.The weight of hours drapes heavy,
a sigh escapes, unburdened.
Past grievances fade like passing cars,
forgiveness lingers in the rearview,
…