THE WOMAN AT THE WINDOW Poem by Jan Jacob Slauerhoff
THE WOMAN AT THE WINDOW
The gate never opens. The window's so high
That at first panoramas to her appear:
Rivers, blue arcs, embrace woods and flow by;
Red birds traverse the green, and slender deer.
She's no idea of how life's lived below;
It must be splendid, though, so long she's pined.
She wants embraces, but where can kisses go
Save her own shoulder, round and cool and kind?
Thursday, February 7, 2019
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2/25/2026 2:56:05 AM # 1.0.0
