Windows Poem by Neil Graham Marsden

The driving sleet taps hard against
the windows here tonight,
drumming out a coded symphony
to interpret as I might.

It speaks to me of bolder times
when chance would ride the night,
to Technicolor worlds where only
captured rainbows feed the light.

Of days when tender love would
wash me safely back to shore,
the flashing of the distant lighthouse,
each time brighter than before.

Such thoughts of love are filed to heart
and safely locked away,
perchance the mighty hand of fate should
pass this way with keys today.

Though when that icy storm drives forth
to maybe show the sun,
the chances are that circumstance will
simply rule such dreams undone.

So each and every autumn time
as temperatures slide low,
I’m drawn back to this once shared
window seat to watch those winters go.