Waiting By The Window


Waiting by the window

listening to the wind blow

when are you coming home?


You know the hour is growing late

and though I tire, I will wait

until I know for certain we’re alone.


At the mirror, you’ll comb your hair

make your bed and say your prayer

turn the bedroom light down soft and low.


And I will stand here in the dark

(swallowed by the teeming dark)

laughing at my little lark

And wait and breathe and watch you through the window.



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20 Responses to Waiting By The Window

  1. ivor20 says:

    Very intriguing, and in it’s introverted way, can be interpreted in different ways.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Ivor has nailed this mystifying, thought-provoking piece

    Liked by 2 people

  3. merrildsmith says:

    I agree–it can be interpreted in many ways.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Deliciously dark Oglach.
    A wicked hunter observing his innocence prey.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. skat says:

    It’s Mother’s Day over here today, so I’m interpreting this as a mother poem. A kind of creepy mother, mind you. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  6. The creepy peeping tom who emerges in the last stanza is almost likable in his willingness to endure the cold wind for the sake of looking w/o touching (or otherwise disturbing).  I still hope the window is locked.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Maybe the lover is dead and he just can watch his fiancée but can’t touch her or reach her…
    That’s my interpretation, though… 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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