Moonlight never shined
across her bed of dark pecan
through the small minded windows
of America.
No view of stars or sunny sky
no ever changing blue or gray;
A glass pane cordoning
the outside from the in;
Windows that move up and down
refusing to open;
painted shut, held rigid
by decades of enamel and decay
facing inward
on a tenement courtyard;
untouched by moonlight
no framed scene of tree or sea.
When young she never noticed
the long Winter night
while filling the oil lamp
or by a candle’s light
for the moon shined bright
through the tall windows of Naples;
windows that opened outward – outward
to the city and the world.
Along the path of dreams she comes back to you
yet the sum of her trysts
is less than one morning’s vision of you
through a tall open window.
.
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http://sivanaskayoblog.com/2012/09/
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Very evocative Frank. I could see her at that window.
Best wishes, Pete.
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