Windows To The Soul
Nature opens,
her eyes are bold.
Two opaque puddles reflecting on the floor.
Her smile's afixiated.
without feeling at all,
a white rip in the sky,
and entangled vine hands
seem to hold my attention
long enough to gaze,
to be lost in her eyes
and see the scene of her choice.
Upside down copper trees
and dark,
brass colored leaves.
So inviting,
soothing, is her voice,
greeting you, passing through
to the scene of her choice.
The aridness of the air,
a small hill
and the crispness of the grass.
Stopping at the edge of the woods.
Distinguishing all from what is and what should.
poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
Added by Poetry Lover
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