a winter window

her heart looks through the winter window

wondering, and wandering

in futures yet-to-come or ever be —

the lights are coming down, and she’s

meandering and maundering

out in the cold of irreality

 

her heart is like a broken arrow

still it tries, each waking day, to fly —

and even though

the way be frozen,

she still hears her heart’s soft

lullaby

 


Picture credit : ID 82228349 Tatsiana Hraiko | Dreamstime.com

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “a winter window”

  1. Love the development, the passage from one sense and image to another in this poem. Maundering is a new-to-me word — “talk in a rambling manner,” “move or act in a dreamy or idle manner.” What a wonderful word!

    Liked by 2 people

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