On Watching My Lover Through A Window Poem by BEAU GOLDEN

Mist on the windowpane i rubbed it away
A short life a short memory a short day
Through the speckled glass as a dove settles
sitting on grass and pine nettles

A bed of pine straw covered by another useless law
A robin in the spring yet i've seen not a thing
Real worms real dirt real rain real love
Through the speckled glass where is the dove?

The idyllic little town awaits your return
Yet you continue to crash and burn
The town keeps calling you and observe
You see your lover sway and verve

Watching my lover through a window
I'm overwhelmed with emotion
And yet her face remains expressionless
Devoid of devotion

Through the speckled glass
Where is the dove?
Where is the love?

Beau Golden