The man in the window

The man stares out the window
Glaring.
Searching.
He comes every day.
Same time.
Same place.
His gaze is piercing.
Lusting.
What brings him to his watchtower again and again?
What is his wandering eye desiring?
I will never find out for his glance turns mine away, and I am soon gone.



So most of you have probably already read this over on the FB, but I wanted something new up on my blog, so I decided in the laziness of my heart to just stick this one here anyway. However, there is a bit of a story behind this one (not a whole lot, just a bit, but it's something right?). I wrote this poem very much on a whim while in Ecuador this summer. We were randomly driving around (taking the scenic route to our VBS destination, or more-so scenic route if you will, seeing as the entire country was already gorgeous) and we happened to go through a small city. While stopped at (what else) a stop-light, I was looking out the window of the van-bus that we were riding in and saw a man in a window looking back out into the street. He had this somewhat sullen expression on his face, and I joked about it with one or two of the other members of the group. As a follow-up to what I was joking about, I decided that this was perfect material for a short poem. And that's what it ended up as, though maybe not as perfect in final form as the potentiality of the material warranted. But hey, that's how writing goes.

lazily...
ww


This stuff is copyrighted to White Water in 2009. So, yeah...