at her window

looking out her window she rises;

young and bright as a new day.

her image inspires to overwhelm reality.

i, a dusty old relic, have but one thing to offer - character. 

i surely have that.

 

peering out to the vastness - seeing everything, she watches.

to see her is to breathe.

i am standing in the rain,  reflecting forward to lazy Sundays;

 a lounge on the couch with coffee and a newspaper.

she passes by, a subtle breeze - the fresh scent of linen follows, trailing her footsteps.

 

and I think . . . 3,624 miles between Washington Square Park and Montmartre Station.

 

William Edward Teague, 2012