A Window – A Poem by Rowe Williams

She was beautiful, to me.
So much about her was.
Dark hair, flowing in dark rivulets
to rest above her shoulders.
A smooth nose, so perfectly nose-shaped.
Full mouth, so often full
of her not-quite-beautiful laugh;
too often full of bitterness.

You see, she was beautiful to me.
But the heart of her beauty
was none of those things.
It emanated from her eyes...
Such deep eyes.
I would look into those depths
and wonder.

They were deep with the past.
The past, so often unkind,
was no kinder here.
There was hurt - sorrow, pain -
buried in the deep.
Those eyes had stared into the abyss,
had been stared into in turn;
but nothing had drowned them out.

They were deep with now.
Eager to consume everything,
take in more and more.
Like they could never be full.
Unveiling the happiness, turmoil,
laughter, anxiety of life.
Keeping so much behind the veil,
protecting such secrets.

They were deep with forever.
Sorrow and joy yet to come.
Vibrant, messy life.
Eyes so human, in a way
that would always be human.
The way in, to be a part of
her turbulence.

But I never saw them deep with love.
That was never for me to see.
There was the edge of -
happiness, joy, peace maybe? -
that would never be mine to give.
A past I would never truly know.
A now I could only be peripheral to.
A forever that didn't need me.
Those depths - they were never mine to tread.
But she was beautiful, to me.