Outside The Window It's Gone Now Poem by James McLain

In the purple bed room I have painted,
Long ago, but now smell's of.
That deep musky scent that won't wash out,
That has produced, a single child.

Even when I grew to tired and weak,
I would go on.
Even when asleep I hear her thought's,
By living only once, she never slept.

A pink and white mushroom,
pouting it stood out by her red lips.
The purple drapes would move,
Inside the room, I couldn't see because.

And then, just like that, her ship came in,
Once outside the room I knew.
I could feel that I had lost a mouth once
Warm, but could not talk.