Window Pain
I live in a world beyond the material world.
At night, I swim, a silver fish, among the stars.
Constellations net me in their glistening hair.
By day I wander along a piano’s keys.
I replay life’s golden dreams again and again,
its quartets, concertos, and its symphonies.
A harmonious blacksmith, I no longer know
who, or what, I am. I only know I exist right here,
at my desk, looking out through my window,
a window in my mind, that serves as a mirror,
reflecting all I was, and am, and ever will be.
Sometimes, the sun shines. Often the rain
falls cold against that window pane, and I press
my nose against cold glass, and feel again the pain.
rogermoorepoet 
Great poem, I’m sorry but I’m not sure if there’s a private messaging feature on here. Can you email me: majourgurl@yahoo.com
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Your poetry on aging is so touching, sad, and real. Well done my friend!
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That’s because I am ageing, and it is touching, and sometimes it is so sad, and yes, it can be very real! I f eel blessed when I put it into words. Then others may not feel so abandoned, ancient, and lonely. Great to see you here – and thank you!
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