by Richard Vince
Reflected in two panes of glass,
She is beautiful. Her scarf protects
Her from the cold that is safely
On the other side of the window
As she loses herself in prose.
Her eyes are allowed occasionally
To glimpse the jewels of light
Scattered across the outside world
As they glint among streets and
Houses in which she will never live.
Mostly, though, they ignore reality
In favour of alternative worlds,
Woven from words and imagination
And brought to temporary life
In her awed mind.
There is beauty in her wonderment
That shines above the darkness
Of the slumbering factories and
Joins in exultation the stars
In the January sky.
Sadness arrives as she returns
Briefly to the real world, but
The beauty never leaves:
It is merely hidden until she is
Re immersed in fantasy and
The wonderment returns.
The miles and the minutes
Fall away as I travel further
From that strange, dark city
That is illuminated by her beauty.
Posted on 01/13/2008
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Laura Doom on 01/13/08 at 08:11 PM|
This is an exercise in which you are decidedly accomplished vince - generating and projecting a tangible, credible character from a sketched impression. The concluding lines, a realization that reading has evolved into a broader, almost cinematic experience.
|Posted by Julie Adams on 01/14/08 at 04:31 PM|
aahh, to have a muse such as this!...to indulge in the sheer beauty of another, no matter what else takes the world over...a moving piece of intimate visualization, a people watcher's delight...peace n happy writings, jewels
|Posted by Anne Engelen on 01/14/08 at 08:43 PM|
oh how I have enjoyed this!
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 01/20/08 at 05:44 PM|
This sounds either like me or what I observe riding the bus or subway. Yes, this is what I often experience. It's a journey from inside to the outside and back again to the internal world. Perception and the point of view life has to offer, with its range of emotions.