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Broken Window
shattered glass
glints of sunlight
on a once whole window
no more to look through
no more to illuminate
the swirling afternoon's
clouds of rising tobacco smoke
the now cold cup of coffee
the doorbell that doesn't know
to ring
the knocks that never arrive
the sturdy home of countless years
now only a sad memory
of an old, ailing man
no more to sit, amazed
enthralled by falling snow
no more to keep the chill
from a love laden home
I hold a tiny, shattered
piece of glass
sole remnant of what was
a once mighty bastion,
protector against the wind
but comforting admitter
of nature and life
of lives and loves, and lies combined
do they still resonate within
just beyond my view?
which is real?
sparkling emanations of the past
or my disconnection from my
once so different reality?
the snows of my memory are warm,
soft, cushiony powdered flakes of time
the icy chill of "now" seems most ghostly
the sinking ship
rudderless, anchorless
drifting towards
the rocks of fate
and its ultimate end
I pick up a shard of glass
I squeeze it in my palm
a sad smile of remembrance
a surrender to fate,
crosses my face
I squeeze the piece in my palm
blood drips
the life essence flows
the window is once again open
I can see clearly now.
Copyright ©
Tom Bell
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