WINDOWS
Windows reflects the world outside
Inside, the soul remains concealed.
A ticking clock, a relentless reminder
Of moments passing, unreclaimed.
A diner, a stage for silent dramas
Obsoletion fades stains of trauma.
Each matron, an enigma, unnamed
In the quiet corner, an empty stool...
A cook, a keep, a bartender secretly weeps
polishes glasses, pushing the dregs away.
Waiting for a story untold but not forgotten.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
