A simple window A mirror of reflection I see a balance of tension within its creation The morning nature arose in its fresh tree pine Shining itself upon the window's shrine What do I see? I spy with my little eye A sea of independence And a faction of world pride
Leading forth its beauty A crack is present on the glass What could this mean? Was destruction awake in its past? Was it a breach of war in its latch? Or just a simple pile of rough, rocky ash?
A window's future A glass stain, a mark on impermeability To be recovered? Could this be the open solitude of infinity? Deer with long tracks sheer the day Upon its past age Or was it just a present revelation of roadkill... That subdued its inward rage? People withstood many triumphs, and Most filled with anger Some responsibility taken Others with pain and no hope to salver A mirror is worth an antique Of power and immortality Not the glass type, but Our own view of sanity.
This was the first personal poem I ever wrote back in 2009. I definitely had a vision for this piece as I was writing it. It holds a very special place in my heart, although I may have edited a line or two for it to make more sense, lol. Always room for improvement! I hope to build upon each of my poems until they reach their final versions in a poetry collection of mine one day. That would be awesome!