Aqua-marine eyes avert from a subdued glance,
though her curt smile doesn't hide the warmth
reflecting back to me - a window doesn't show
it's faults nor gestures of antiquity; it promotes
what you want to see or long for.

We're miles apart, but I feel her spirit waver
in a distant shroud of enigmas, yet her shadows
dance in anticipation every time I'm around the bend
seeking comfort - a door leading to her moss-covered
niche; bearing true witness to her soul.

She may be the angel in my dreams - wings
holding me with charitable grace, not knowing
all the quiet things, but willing to ease a man's
frail mind - a home rich in warmth and love;
where windows and doors lead somewhere.