The rocking chair tilts
as an old woman starts
from her dozing; who...
who is at the window?
The lower panes only
hold the shape, with light
weakly trying but failing
to give the face structure.
The careworn eyes
seek those of the waif;
her past shimmers outside:
what was, faces what is.
The little shadow has gone,
the silhouettes of darkness
regain their usual forms-
only her heart plays games.
(Image - detail from Vrel's Woman at the window)
No comments:
Post a Comment