Outside my living room window stands a bus stop
One afternoon, I counted fourteen people waiting
Watched as a colonnade of human souls were
Swallowed by a red giant.
The two o clock journey had begun
Where are they going?
Will their day be a good one?
This I will never know
I will not see their journey back
The return bus stop is further down
The road where I cannot see
I make up my own stories
About the faces standing waiting
The old lady with her green scarf
She is off to see her grandson…
Image by scvincent.com
Image by Pixabay.com
Lady of Glass
Who is this strange lady made of glass
The wall behind her holds no answers
With its church-like window with flames of red
Have I fallen in love?
I see the red fire in her head
Her thoughts shielded from me
I see her bones
There is darkness where her heart should be
Did some evil hand steal it from her?
Could I find it, return it, make her whole?
The glass tulips splinter, lay broken on the ground
She doesn’t move, her face unchanging
My glass butterfly wears a halo of green
The last vestige of a life she once knew…
I watched, helpless
As white clouds lower
Wrapping her in their velvet touch
Taken from my dream
On a whisper, I hear her say
“Search for me”, as she floats away
Like the Lady of Shallot.