Stained windows

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Her windows were stained blue-hazel and reflected the sky.

Clouds drifted past them, bringing them to life.

From outside you could see her form standing behind the glass, looking out.

And sky pictures played across her face as she looked up.

For a moment, the two images blended.

It looked as if she had taken her place amongst those same clouds.

A trick of the eye that fed my imagination.

And I wondered if she knew how highly I thought of her.

I wondered if she knew that in my eyes, heaven danced across her face.

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14 thoughts on “Stained windows

  1. I must say I have a thing for unnamed heroes. So often they are the source of the purest inspiration, yet they remain unaware of the impact they are responsible for. I always wonder: is this invading their privacy? Should we find the artist guilty for letting their hearts speak?
    Devan, I like this piece cause you stopped and found the extraordinary in ‘the everyday’. Sometimes it’s the sky, sometimes paint peeling off the window sill. They are powerful messengers waiting patiently to be discovered. We watch, we learn.
    (And we click ‘like’)

  2. You are welcome. And feel free to tell me when I start stalking you with my comments 🙂

  3. Oh my gosh, NEVER!! I get the goofiest grin on my face when you comment! Haha! Uh-oh, I’ve said too much! 🙂

    Thanks again my friend!

  4. I apologize! The comment did double up. It showed up the second time as “anonymous” so I didn’t immediately recognize that it was you.

    Thanks again!

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