Windows Facing Windows Review.

an open journal of poetry

Our Time Is Over

David Centorbi

You have to understand,
Not everyone wants to meet you.
Not everyone wants to talk to you.
No one wants to care for everyone.
It would be as impossible as turning stones into bread.

I am a pessimist, that is right.
I want to believe in the beauty of a kissed frog,
but not until forever & ever can be synthesized.

So, for now, I know
The whispers from an empty chair
Are the only words
I need to hear.

Go to this poem.