Stained Window

May 24, 2012
“He has to be home soon,” my eyes brimmed with denial.
My childhood memory recollects
The time I watched with tear stained cheeks
From my window looking out onto the lonesome road.

My childhood memory recollects
Waiting then aching for my father to return home
From my window looking out onto the lonesome road.
“Why has he not come yet?” I thought over worried tears.

Waiting then aching for my father to return home
After his latest selfish desertion.
“Why has he not come yet?” I thought over worried tears.
The snow began to smother the ground without a trace or clue.

After his latest selfish desertion
I waited urgently though the moments ticked the moon up higher.
The snow began to smother the ground without a trace or clue.
My small fingers pressed against the chill glass desperately.

I waited urgently though the moments ticked the moon up higher
The time I watched with tear stained cheeks.
My small fingers pressed against the chill glass desperately,
“He has to be home soon,” my eyes brimmed with denial.





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