Stones I

A stone ping'd against the glass,
cold and hard,
a sharp crack that startled me
and food boiled-over in the pan
and you wanting in -
but a distance down -
hoying stones at the window.
I was curtained, trying oblivion,
but the threat of shattered glass,
chips and damage,
splinters on my floor,
of too much damn breakage -
well, someone else opened the door
and there you stood 
baleful, eyes green as marbles
and hard.
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