"Chariot of Memories," A Poem
In Memory of a Window
Always staring out the window,
I see the flash of thunder before the roar of the lion,
Raindrops stream down the face of glass,
Blurry and gray with a frown,
Moving up and moving down.
I see the tides of the ocean,
Kissing the shore.
Seagulls looking toward the north shore,
Sandcastles stand as fortresses,
until the commander of waves comes ashore.
I see a couple strolling hand-in-hand,
Whispering sweet everythings.
Frozen scene in a snow globe that has been shaken,
Petals carried with the wind.
Fall around them like the first frost,
Blending being found and lost.
I see the glow of the Eiffel Tower,
Light shines through the stained-glass windows of Sainte-Chapelle.
Monet’s green bridges suspended above the waterlilies.
Music notes dance the waltz on the cobbled stones,
I see the curves and red of the Golden Gate Bridge,
Peeking into the view of the Twin Peaks’ bones.
I see the jazz, the beats, the piano.
Black and white keys fit perfectly under the hands of a pianist,
The saxophone loves the piano.
Improvising together as a band,
Scattering the sheet music,
It’s the feeling captured in our hands.
I see lilac, rose pink, orange flamed sunsets,
The sun leaving for the night.
Branches resembling hands of a creature who is mouthless,
As the hands of a clock tick in darkness.
I see my grandfather swimming and walking for hours.
In his room, he writes for hours,
getting lost in his sea of books surrounding him,
sheets of paper surround him.
But now I see him only in my memory,
Death came and took him before I could even blink without energy.
I see the moving chariots, the boxes of my childhood piling up
I see through glass for the last time.
The streets where I walked,
I see the present, future, and past—
If only everything could last.
Always staring out the window.