A frigid wind tears through these empty streets
No light of any kind to guide my way
Yesterday's Indian summer
Has given way to Puritan autumn
As I wander, coat pulled tightly
Shoulders hunched against the chill
That cuts to the bone with razor's edge
And saps my strength of will
My footsteps echo hollow
The only traveler this dark night
In the distance, a glow, that for lost warmth
Brighter than my dim recollection
Then, as in someone's dream, I find myself
Standing before this portal
A window, set in the fabrics of the past
Without a single step of mine to put me there
Through the glass pours light so pure
Even these eyes feel no pain
At least until the scene within
Truly registers on the screen of my mind
A room, much like any other
But what creates the light in it is you
And by strength, beget strength
Logarithmically entwined
Understand, this is not the past
But this and present combined
You stand alone in this room
But we belong together
This yearning so poignantly reinforced
Not that of jealous spiteful heart
For what we have is so rare
I reach out to you to touch your hand
I reach and I touch the glass
My fingertips breathe their sorrowful mark
As the gail begins to howl louder upon me
I wish you could just open the window
I am wanting so desperately to feel your warmth
That so far I only view
I rest my head upon the glass, seeking comfort
The chill is that of death's own hand
I would give my life to save what we have
And I feel through your happiness
To live through everything
Yet to only live through the view of this window
Until you see fit to let me in
This reminds me of a friend of mine who seemed to reveal everything to me but who in actuallity revealed nothing at all. LIke a wall that apears solid but when you touch it, it falls down.