The Window

She stares at the paper not a word comes to write Surrounded by peace on a dark rainy night. Like the page in her notebook her mind remains clear. Not a word to be written, her pen she cant steer. No thought comes to mind as she drives memory road Not a vision, no flashback nothing waits to be told. She thumbs through the pages of an old book of art... Searching for something that touches her heart. The years took a toll on this book left untouched Musty and frayed, the paper crinkled and rough. Its cover is faded its corners are bent A pressed flower within leaves a soft subtle scent. Page after page of landscapes and faces Baskets of fruit and flowers in vases. Paintings and sketches most done black and white Ancient ships at full sail, a quaint farm house at night. Wyeth’s painting; a window, captures her eye Takes her back to her childhood; a cabin lakeside. At last there’s a story beginning to grow She picks up her pen and the words start to flow. She writes of a weekend back in the fall The cabin they stayed in among pine trees so tall. How she looked out her window each day that she woke Watched the sun kiss the lake as the morning fog broke. Outside her window there on the ground. An old gray canoe that lay upside down. Many times she would dream of paddling out She’d catch a big fish; she knew it, no doubt! She went to the window one cool gloomy morn Happy inside in where it was cozy and warm. She leaned on the sill, hands under her chin Wondering what she would do, where to begin. She gazed out the window watching drops hit the lake Millions of circle the raindrops would make. Red orange leaves on the trees by the shore Now shiny and limp from the rain as it pours. Sandcastles she built by the beach yesterday Are nothing but mud now washing away. No life in the forest, nothing moving around Just that old gray canoe laying there on the ground. By noon there was sun as clouds cleared away “May I go outside? I want to go play!” “I have an idea” Dad called from the door “Let's take that canoe down to the shore.” Dad had the fishing poles, tackle and bait. “We’re gonna go fishing? Yeeha, I can’t wait”! He flipped the canoe over, and loaded the gear. The moment she wished for was finally here. Dad pulled and she pushed that boat to the shore She put on her life jacket Dad grabbed the oars. Out to the middle he paddled them both Then dropped in the anchor so gently they'd float. She talked and she chattered about little girl things Now looking back she must have made his ears ring. He laughed and he nodded answered questions on cue As the greatest dad ever, what else would he do? An afternoon on the lake just father and daughter. In an old gray canoe out on the water. Not a single fish caught, only memories were made That dark gloomy morning became a wonderful day. At night in her bunk as Dad tucked her in “Thanks for taking me fishing” she said with a grin. He turned out the light then closed her door She’s warm in her bed while out side the rain pours. Now closing her eyes she pictures that lake And the millions of circles the raindrops did make. No life in the forest, nothing moving around Just that old gray canoe laying there on the ground.