blue window
The night encompassed his face and voice,
outside the blue window, alone he stood,
his thought returned to a doubtful choice
unfinished structure made from balsa wood.
The flying daughters of the night, wind-wrought,
escorted shades of dark and raindrops shed,
she fled, a monochrome contrast he sought;
in air her photograph reflects, misled.
The nighttime beckoned on its steady hold;
In that same sight he touched her face and braved,
the longitudes besought, belied and called,
contrasting him outside his dream and grave.
In mid-air wafting a newspaper folds
dispatched strayng, renders his advance,
its insignificance and whirling molds,
before the sill amends his nightly dance.
© 2013/03/22 G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)
The night encompassed his face and voice,
outside the blue window, alone he stood,
his thought returned to a doubtful choice
unfinished structure made from balsa wood.
The flying daughters of the night, wind-wrought,
escorted shades of dark and raindrops shed,
she fled, a monochrome contrast he sought;
in air her photograph reflects, misled.
The nighttime beckoned on its steady hold;
In that same sight he touched her face and braved,
the longitudes besought, belied and called,
contrasting him outside his dream and grave.
In mid-air wafting a newspaper folds
dispatched strayng, renders his advance,
its insignificance and whirling molds,
before the sill amends his nightly dance.
© 2013/03/22 G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)
