From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886
Window
I look out the window with the broad windowsill
Wide enough for a calico cat, very still,
To stretch out comfortably watching the trees.
Thinking cat dreams of catching birds and bees.
The old window ‘s divided into twelve little panes,
Framing the garden and the gravel lane.
Wistful I wander in my restless mind
To far away places and other times.
Each pane shows a piece of a puzzle green.
Grasses, flowers, and trees make a scene
Tranquil and serene , so welcoming.
The trees and the lane seem to beckon me.
I hear the crunch of a boot on gravel.
The scene in my mind begins to unravel.
Inside this chamber dim and warm
Is where I find my longed for home.
Light through the window shows your form and face,
In one of the window panes perfectly traced.
One pane shows you looking up happily.
Another the empty lane calling to me.
A country lane is a dangerous thing.
You will never know what tomorrow might bring.
For today I will turn my face from the light,
Seeking the comfort of a windowless night.
amongyourbeesandyourbooks 