A window stands before me,
A window tall and wide.
Light shines alone and free,
Right through the window, off to the side.
Here I'll stand in the light,
A light so small but nice and bright.
There's a brush of air,
The hand of a man,
That shuffles my hair
With a sweet stroke while I stand.
It's a memory that's resurfacing
From the haze in my mind thats been mustering.
The memory strengthens and casually
The hand reaches for my cheek.
I know I crave the eventually
The fingers reach the peak.
The memorty shuffles around a bit
Like puzzle pieces that almost fit.
Fingers pull the memory closer
As light breaks my sudden focus.
A window appears, like a poser
As everything else breaks apart like magic;
Hocus Pocus.
The sweet, sweet fingertips
Brush a streak from my cheek.
I'm looking up, a hand on my hip
As little tears attempt to sneak
Further down my face.
No set order or attempt of pace.
The face is blurred, very blurred,
The face, the man i knew to love.
The memory, less focused and slurred
Is a memory of a long, long love.
Long ago, it had clutched my heart,
A place where my life had begun to start.
The memory is gone, fleeing from me.
It's floating away on an imaginary sea.
It's all gone and now It'll never be
The thing in my life i grew to greed.
Now, the window i stand before
Is sad and blue and nothing new.
No light will ever come to lore
Some curious bystander to come and view.
The window is dark and gloomy and sad
As if the light was something it's never had.
The window I watch is covered with dirt
And only darkness is what shines through.
Never again will the light flirt
With eyes that belong only to you.
Never again will the window breath
For the light is something that did leave.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoetrySome poems I've written and had nothing else to do with them. I hope you enjoy them. Most of them are sad, so this is a warning! I'd be very grateful if you'd leave comments about them and maybe even suggestions! Thanks for reading!
