Inside, she looks out.
Seasons change
confined within her pane.
Stripped by cruel winds,
branches clatter
nodes exposed.
Charles River, ribbon slight,
below low slung sky,
scene through barren trees.
Relieved, she slowly smiles,
espies her Charles again.
Silent vow worms her mind.
Before spring reblooms in pane
I shall join you, sweet Charles,
an afterworld away.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, on Open Link Night.
Photo from Pixabay.com
lillian the home poet 
What a beautiful poem!!! Thanks for your comment on my post.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you enjoyed.
I always enjoy hosting and seeing all the diverse posts to the prompt. Glad you posted to it….once upon a poetics! 🙂
LikeLike
Deathwatch is macabre; a bitter sweet dark tale. I understand being housebound, seeing the world out the windows. I hoped to be reading an allegory, but could not find much light midst the darkness; sigh.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Other than joining her beloved Charles, which seeing the Charles River come into view each year, it is a pretty bleak one. Apologies…..darker side today.
LikeLike
Don’t apologize for the rich darkness which frames a sweet and beautiful light through the pain. Without death, would we even feel like we had a stake in life, without loneliness, we might not ever know the true measures of our love. 💜 this
LikeLiked by 1 person
It must be something in the air. My poem for tonight is melancholic too. This is so beautifully written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you….there is melancholy in the air on November 1 — all souls day…
LikeLiked by 1 person
A fitting poem for All Saints Day. Watching the world and the river going by.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes….somehow I always find November 1 a bit melancholic. Although I did see someone humorously post on FaceBook that November 1 is National-Parents-Eat-Your-Kids’-Halloween-Candy-While-They’re-At-School Day! 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
In honor of my dead family members I am fixing a dinner of turnip greens, cornbread, baked sweet potatoes, fried chicken. The smell fills the house like incense while my candles burn.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh, I could feel it in a way; from behind the windows, to look at the world go by can bring about such a strange mix of emotions. To join “sweet Charles” makes me wonder of a rather darker meaning.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So glad you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!
LikeLike
This is most definitely a 1st November poem, Lill. I love the sounds and the visual detail in
‘Stripped by cruel winds,
branches clatter
nodes exposed’
and the ‘low slung sky’ – we had one of those today. The ending is bittersweet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And we have a very low slung sky today in BOSTON!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dark and melancholic Lillian. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is beautifully melancholic, dark and possesses multiple layers and dimensions of meaning. The last stanza makes me think of life hereafter and the possibility of souls reuniting 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah….you understood it exactly as I meant it!
LikeLike
Nice line about the worming vow: “Silent vow worms her mind.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Frank. Kind of like an ear worm…a tune that gets in your head and you can’t stop hearing it. For this fictitious (poetic) character, it’s the memory of her lost Charles and wanting to join him in the afterworld that keeps going round in her mind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a bleak view… November is heavy, when the only light you see is death… but a wonderful view all the same.
LikeLiked by 1 person
November with All Souls’ Day can be dark…and suddenly bare skeletal trees….
LikeLike
I look forward to that spring being reborn but in the meantime, we are bound by darkness. I agree this November month is grey and sad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for these words here, Grace. I’ve always loved Colorful October and disliked the skeletal trees of November. December brightens up with Christmas lights. So yep…November, till Thanksgiving Day, has always been dark to me.
LikeLike
This is definitely framed within the panes/pain of loss, and perhaps yearning for death itself. Or maybe, just the “knowing” that one’s time will be coming up soon too, and so, a reunion as held in belief, offers the comfort. Atmospheric poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah yes, Pat. The pane/pain and scene/seen are implicit here. Glad you enjoyed the write.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I happen to like the dark very much, and this piece is fabulous! I especially love “Silent vow worms her mind.” It’s just too perfect! Than you for sharing this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, your comment has me smiling! Thank you for the wonderful thoughts here. Much appreciated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Made my eyes tear knowing that some day, this could be someone I love looking from behind the pane, I hope not and that their life is filled with others. Wonderfully written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Adda. Best compliment is when readers have a visceral response.
LikeLike
Love every bit of this and the poignant punning, the river scene/seen. Confined within her pane/pain. And I find myself reaching for relived within relieved. And oh! That breathing and pressing “low slung sky”. Masterful Lillian 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah Lona – your kind words are so appreciated,
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our outlooks on death always seem to be within a frame of some kind. A beautiful poem.
LikeLike
Thank you, Mary.
LikeLike
I love how you used pane in this poem. The duel meaning makes it very interesting. Seems people know when it is their time to go. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you…and sometimes when a loved one/partner has been gone for so long, one is terminally lonely and ones to join him/her.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I can understand that for sure.
LikeLike
Beautifully evocative–watching the Charles from the window; seeing her own Charles. I’m imagining an elderly woman who is ready to die, and so perhaps it’s not as sad.
LikeLike
The realm between the living and the dead always seems reduced to a windowpane during this time of year. You’ve captured that well here.
LikeLike
Ominous. The window is a perfect metaphor. (K)
LikeLike
spare, and the more powerful for it ~
LikeLike