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Man in the Window

I came up north of Stanton
from pictures I once wore
A stranger to discovery
on a road to no more
Wandering in tapestries
painted not of smiles or sighs
Till that Man in the window
looked into my eyes

Be it known I haven't known
of pleasures more than pain
I haven't run with the fun
of laughter in the rain
I haven't freed in the spree
of tailor made mud pies
Till that Man in the window
Looked into my eyes

It startled me through the glass
of that which He could see
I was the scourge of springtime
prancing in my glory
A bud shrinking in the breeze
eaten by butterflies
When that Man in the window
looked into my eyes

I haven't blushed in the blush
of fresh picked Rosemary
I haven't shied from the why
that Hummingbirds tarry
I haven't dreamed of the dream
that I had won the prize
Till that Man in the window
looked into my eyes

Just as Eagles have their wings
from which to claim the sky
And nighttime becomes the day
with brightness to supply
His love will stand ever more
an unworthy surprise
For, that Man in the window
looked into my eyes

Learn more about this author, Allyn Smith.
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