The window fogs from my breath
I rub it off, again it appears
it’s part of living, my mind says
a sign that fate will have its way.
A world is masked by clouded glass
all hopes of reach are removed
the sweet caress I used to dream
when the view was transparent.
This film on pane confirms my fate
removing those who seek the same
thought the layer is wafer thin
it’s the same as six feet thick.
While the bars on prison doors
hold within detention’s charge
the gaps allow for touch to find
contact with an outside world.
No two barriers are the same
now haze descends to blur my life
dimness now where sight allowed
a cruel reprieve in disconnect.
Goodbye to visions beyond the port
perhaps it’s better to not see
be blind to life now left behind
a fitting match to touch long gone.
© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170414.