Frozen Window
Beneath the lush green meadows of my heart,
ready to bloom when the wind sways them,
there were frozen chunks of snow,
that had never molten into drops of nothingness.
They survived, only to remind me that I had come far,
yet whenever I looked back,
all those years would seem close.
Perhaps the window to those frozen chunks remained
to remind me all that could have been,
but all that shouldn't have been too.
And from every step that I took forward,
I moved into new meadows
but this window moved with me,
and I looked back,
to take a glimpse of all the pages again.
Being helplessly foolish,
perhaps greedy to travel back and forth
into that hilltop that cried for me,
or that road which I had cried for.
They have transformed, so have I
my journey had been evolving me
into someone I had to be,
my age had been moving forth,
but that window kept adding frames
of those forgotten tales I had once intended to live.
So one day I painted that window
and kept it as a memoir of who I was,
to celebrate who I had become.
And from that day on it became a legend
to be remembered in old tales,
which did not matter any more.
I peeped into the chunks of snow
and found them looking back at me
but they are ghosts of memories
to live tales of someone else now.
June 28, 2020
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(2) any theme any form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: 1st Place
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