Window to the Future

I slouch on a windowsill, forlorn,
Having left the land I was born.
In the distance an old stone mill,
And behind old trees and leafy paths
As if in a trance I see a towering building,
Little am I to know in eight years time
I would walk the corridors and call It mine,
But my greatest crime, I did not know this in time.

When I touched the stone, when I was going
I could not moan nor cry, but only questions sewing.
Things would never be the same, as much as I hoped
This could not be changed, but to sadness I did clutch,
This I realised, after numb thoughts and strange days
So now my mind is still all athunder upon the grange
But at least if I must wonder, I know the truth.
So a little does this my soul gently sooth.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

this one brushes against such classics as written by Homer~ the style opens the past while riveted in the present with a story teller's eye for a future~ the patterns of words permit the reader to utilize full imagination ~ questioning if one is seeing time collapse~ rebuild~ or stream along without disturbance in the questing mind of the narrator~

[Sweet_pale_cacophony]

Very well written.