Blue
fenêtre
Τhe
night encompassed his face and voice,
outside
the blue fenêtre alone he stood,
his
thought succumbed to a doubtful choice
unfinished
structure made from balsa wood.
Τhe
flying daughters of the night, wind-wrought,
escorted
shades of blue and raindrops shed,
she
fled, a monochrome contrast he sought;
in
air her photograph averts, misled.
The
nighttime beckoned on its steady mold;
in
that same sight he touched her face and braved,
the
longitudes besought, belied and called,
contrasting
him outside his dream and grave.
In
air suspended a newspaper folds
dispatched,
waving renders his advance
its
insignificance his spirit holds,
before
the sill she mends his nightly dance.
©
03-22-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
