They compare eyes to windows,
a way of looking in;
or glassy, like a mirror--
are you but a reflection?
Eyes like water, too, they say:
deep pools, deep seas.
But pools may freeze
and seas may swell with storm.
Glass and water, they trade
similes as one and same.
A pool of tears, a looking glass--
I'm always slipping through.
But I can't reach through this mirror.
Ice has covered
the pool of your reflection;
there is frost on the window to your soul.
From behind your glass, watch a storm
thrash across the oceans of my eyes;
saltwater raining
until my brow is unclouded again.
Comments
wow
That has to be one of my favourite poems you have written! Really, Hannah, that was magnificant! I loved everything about it! Beautiful!!!!
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The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine
I thought...
I thought of "Child of the pure unclouded brow.."poem at the ending line. Ok, well, sort of through the whole poem. It was wonderful, Hannah.
oh my, I love love love
oh my, I love love love this! Marvellous, simply lovely.
I'm running out of wonderful
I'm running out of wonderful things to say about your poems, but I think the old ones all the same. Just, you know, keep writing, 'cause if you stopped, the site would be a sadder place.
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
I love
how mysterious and yet how meaningful this poem is. Ditto to what everyone else said. This poem is beautiful!
I practically attacked the
I practically attacked the mouse when I saw a new poem of yours up! Beautiful, lovely, amazing and thoughtful as always.
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond