Enough is never there If rough always care

A window on the door...

more and more does looking become a chore
For such lore do tell of man
woman are so gifted in the arts of pain...
but does such lust for love beg to to reason
when rain will still stop depending on the season.

Pending a word for loading
a meaning recall something thinking
but being?
am I really there when love is not enough to share...
love is a fickle word...
when thought of sight is unheard,
bah absurd

so I will look...
through glass that is in comparison
just a nook compared to all reason
A window on a door that could be open,
a winter glaze beyond sight...
a path that leads traveling men
for blooming summers that have long be drop'n
dropping a hint a clue... on new days
for me and you.