THE GIRL WITH THE GLASSES

VERY FEW PEOPLE KNOW THE JOY OF WATCHING, FEWER HAVE EXPERIENCED IT. FROM THE TREES AND THE BIRDS TO THE LIFELESS STATUES - EACH ONE CAN TELL YOU A STORY IF YOU ARE EAGER TO LISTEN. A POEM OF ONE SUCH WATCHER IS WRITTEN BELOW. HOPE YOU LIKE IT... 

In a corner of the park, she stood,

gazing at a book held in her hands.

Glasses on her eyes, shaded by a growth,

as if to it, she was betrothed.

I sat there and watched her read,

from the break of the day till eventide.

She went on without a flinch

as I felt my every body part twinge.

And, as the summer fell into fall

and left her with no shade.

Still, she held and on she read

as the leaves descended, coloring her red.

Then, the autumn went and the winter came

and dyed everything as white as it could.

I couldn't see for she was veiled by flakes,

only then, did my illusion break.

She was never real, all was ethereal.

But still, I am sitting at the same spot.

She brought me joy, to this dream I cling,

I will see her again in the ecstatic spring.