Jack Sinclair's Window
 

Awakening from a cold sleep, he brushes aside his hair
pouring his coffee, and blowing his nose
another day in the life of Jack Sinclair

His memories forgotton, his pride low
in his cheap apartment
he sits alone again staring through the window

Jane died just two years before i write this
victim of being in the wrong place
the original target the bullet missed

Crumbled into despair Jack was never the same
never had a chance for children
never will, too much to bear all this pain

His world is simple now in these empty days
doesn't want for anything, anymore
the world is too cruel he says, god and his mysterious ways

A sip of his coffee, a little to eat
peering through his breath on the window
watching for her below him on the street

Smiling now and then, a toothless grin
remembering , wishing, yearning
for the world it could have been

only 33 years old now, a shadow of his self
his motivation dissapeared
his heart now next to the coffee on the shelf

In the dark of every night, as you can imagine in this sad tale
Jack cries and cries into his pillow
his once vivid dreams now oh so pale.
 
 

                                              Sylier.    .   .  . ....98