Window Still Poem by John Leon

Standing by this window, still
Wondering, waiting,
Hope is such a fickle thing
She bends her head with arms to hold
And just as one begins to fall
Reclaims her arms, herself to hold
Time stands still on this ungodly manor
Break fastens his hand to fold
On this forsaken night
With no end in sight
Tears passed mold into gold,
Still
I stand here waiting
Wondering, hoping
For past to rear his head no more
To glance once more on morrow's shore
If only