Windows Beneath The Street by D. W. White

But when the snows fell
The window fogged
Waiting for a moment to presume 
To presume and to resume 
The dying moments of the whitened day
The evening called
A malignant whisper
Knowing the future awaited only her
And as the street lamps burned 
Their terrible embrace 
Signaling nothing to come
And nothing to wait
Tomorrow had arisen
After I, awaiting,
My foreknown fate