Kyle Carlson Poet Imagism

Windowpane Friend

For months 
I’ve seen her face 
Peering through the upstairs window
Waiting for me to peer through mine
But when I do she runs away every time
So I finally walked across the street
And rapped my knuckles on her door 
But it was already open
So I crept up the squeaky stairs
When I reached the top
I saw her peering through that same window
As white as a ghost
She turned to lock her haunting eyes in mine
She curved her lips in a smile
She disappeared…

Now
Every time I peer through my upstairs window
She’s never peering through hers
I just gaze out upon an empty house
That was actually kind of empty every time before 
I miss her
A tear cascades from my eye
As I wish her well with her next windowpane friend

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Laura Breidenthal August 29, 2011 at 9:39 PM Beautiful. ;_;

Steven Cooke August 3, 2011 at 5:55 AM a touching tale. i like this good poetry

Andrea Dietrich August 3, 2011 at 1:14 AM oooh, ghostly!! I really like this, Kyle. One of the better ones I have read tonight!