View From Home Poem by Harlequin Rose

...and he sits on his porch
rocking back and forth
to the sounds the wind carries in
and what he sees
is what he sees
and what he hears
is what he hears
softly
broken
and the rain covers his tears
things go rushing by
watching
nothing out there to see
but church bells in the wind
mimic the time he lost
to his conscience
still
quiet
turbulence drifting by
and he sits on his porch
rocking back and forth
to the sounds
that the wind carries in.