Through Windows, I Watched

 And if, only if I were a painter…

 

To dip my brush in the creamy tans and orange reds

     of the sunset sky.

Hues which linger over the glass,

      through which I watch you.

 

And here is the end point of my day, for

    nothing could take more control than to watch you, tears,

gentle tears that someone careless created,

     falling like hammers on my heart as they softly land

on the hand that held my own, just moments, moments ago…

 

Whoever said that men were weak in crying

      never saw your face as it is now,

and if you would let me, I would

hold you, closely…

         for God only knows why you fell… 

Reviews

[Ravenskald]

Nice rhyming scheme
moves along nicely, showing compassion and warmth
with each line
enjoyable reading

R

[Jaffa Forbes]

Visually stunning, creatively sound with a reasonably strong message. Very good work. Love the structure too. All in all I loved reading this poem. Send me read requests any time, I do answer them (eventually!)
Jaff :)

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I have never considered crying a sign of weakness. I have cried many tears in my life; some from joy, many from sorrow. I have even cried when I was touched deeply by written words of poetry or films in the cinema.
An interesting piece of writing.