Tacoma Poem by PATRICIA DOBROSIPEARSON

She beckons me to my window.
'Can you see my view? '
I squint my eyes and challenge my mind,
only to fall short of her vision.
Was it the shadow cast upon my pane that left me unable?
My eyes have failed me, my dear!
I wrestle with your descriptions.
I try to widen my view,
so as to see the details
you are sharing,
of the window you look through.
The leaded glass from which I drink
the morning sun leaves me blind.