Upon the window, enveloped in despair,
Reflects the caustic image I wish wasn’t there.
And as the tears come rolling down,
The water weds the solemn ground.
Under watchful eyes, I’m not alone,
Through the picture the tempest moans.
But those eyes, those blue-brown eyes,
Distract me from the thunder’s rise.
Binding me within the confines of my home,
I’m left shackled as the monster roams.
In my ire, ere a single thought, I shout,
“What has your mischief brought about?”
Upon the window, without despair,
Laughs the demon I wish wasn’t there.
And as the tears come rolling down,
The water weds the solemn ground.
DannYetman
www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com
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