At the window

A Buddha moon bellies upon the clouds

And with the staccato echo of heels on concrete

I hurry to my window, for it was the sound

of when once you came home

In that time when I knew love by your name.

The street below, patterned in the circles of street lamps

With glistening puddles from the afternoon rain

Speaks of emptiness except for one figure

Walking slowly, face down, hands shoved into raincoat pockets

Frantically I lift the stubborn window and call, “Annette!”

 

She pauses, marvelously captured in light and shadow

And lifts her eyes to my face and smiles

It is not you. It never is. But she smiles as if knowing

My thoughts and torments. She smiles and shrugs

And walks on but with paces telling that she is like me

And has nowhere to go except into yesterdays

When all the wonders were born that now

Slowly die within us, for nothing is as cold as sorrow.

And I retreat into myself and pen the false idols of words

As if syllables were serums and hyphens were hope

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[The Quill]

amazing flow of poem...great work

[DrD]

Thanks for your visit and kind words.

[Lyn Anderson]

The last line is brilliant, and the form only enhances the piece.

[DrD]

You're most kind and I truly appreciate you visiting here.

[Matching Socks]

Exquisite. Very glad to read this one today.

[DrD]

I haven't seen you here before but I hope it's not the last time. Thank you for your kind words.

[John Anderson]

wonderfully written. Very nicely done

[DrD]

Thanks John, glad to see you here.

[Damien Davison]

You are a master of words and the ability to capture creative minds into the worlds of your poems/writings.
"She pauses, marvelously captured in light and shadow
And lifts her eyes to my face and smiles"
I found it hard to breathe in that brief moment.

[DrD]

You're most kind, Damien and I'm glad to see you visiting here.

[Damien Davison]

I don't know why I haven't! Take care!

[J. J. Nightingale]

We live within shadows of yesterdays
And dip our pens in blood
Hoping to immortalize
Our passions and our loves . .

Breathless .. Jazz

[DrD]

Thanks, Jazz . . . . glad to see you here

[J. J. Nightingale]

xx :) ..

[David Scott]

Ah, but they are not "false" if they are not your worship. Take this "serum" because what you have can not be cured. We can only offer paliative treatment for your sickness. The "cure" would have you loose your hair and waste away into death walking. So, live while you die. Drink in to nourish the parts of you that live still and when you go to the window know that she is looking down at you thru her's.
I write this with love and compassion for you my friend!
Be well. Live well. and Write well!
David.

[DrD]

You are an observant friend, David, and I appreciate you greatly.

[LA Lorena]

If you keep writing them like this, I am afraid my *favourites* bin is going to become a very cramped place indeed. This one touches right to the heart and twists the blade. Very well done Sir!

[DrD]

I would love to fill your favorites bin, Lorena. I will try my best to do it.

[KAOlmsted]

This had my heart in my throat a little...the loneliness is palpable. I wish you'd go down to the street and offer that nice woman a cup of coffee...

;-)

-kimmer

[DrD]

I was not in her yesterdays, nor was she in mine. It could never be the same.

[KAOlmsted]

*sigh* True enough...but the todays would have been a lot nicer ;-)