The Window
There she was in the window.
No peacock, nor dove,
a simple pheasant, not my first pick;
But would she do the trick?
I had to see.
I had to feel.
The memory of my past relationship lingers,
would she fit between these broken fingers?
I grab the handle.
I walk inside.
The shop is filled with ancient lore,
with an exchange of sorts I’m out the door.
I take her out.
I dip her in red.
Her crimson colors fill my page,
a senior in my clutches, but I don’t mind the age.
I dance.
I share her with no one.
The world will see what she left behind
and all of her projects that I have signed.
Now there she sits in my window.
My peacock, my dove,
more than a pheasant. She did the trick,
my best choice; the right pick.
I'm an aspiring writer that has decided to get out there and share my creations. I'd like to hear what you think about my work so that I can improve. What did you like? What didn't you like?
For poems I'd like to hear everyones interpretation. Let's talk about it :)
© 2017 PEDRO TORRES ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Pictures provided by https://www.pexels.com
Congratulations @pltorres! You have completed some achievement on Steemit and have been rewarded with new badge(s) :
Click on any badge to view your own Board of Honor on SteemitBoard.
For more information about SteemitBoard, click here
If you no longer want to receive notifications, reply to this comment with the word
STOP