The Windows
The windows, shining in an afternoon
Long lost, a light of long lost boyhood day,
Let in enough of childhood sun to spoon
Some beams of beauty for the lad. The stray
Shafts through abandoned panes were just enough.
His eye fell on the toy soldiers there
In rows of red, and gold, and blue, the stuff
Of little boy dreams. A mythic lair
Of animals, like teddies, rocking steed
With painted mane and purple saddle, plumed
Beasts, ivory goats—Beauty in a stampede,
Left locked up, out of reach. The boy was doomed
Forever to a vision held and chaste
In reveries with longing memories traced.
by phillipw | Oct 11, 2019 | ME, WH |