Windows

     I

I believe that
sometimes ghosts
haunt a place
old memories so
strong that just
somebody's pressence
will be enough to
set them in motion

especially on a 
lazy summer afternoon

      II

I don't know what
called me here
perhaps my feelings
of sadness depression
in my soul

I'm a thirty-five
years old man
that holds no future
and a past
that doesn't seem
to be my own

I guess I just
wondered aimlessly
lonely and lost

without hope
without any care
of my destination
until I find myself

sittingin the shade
staring aimlessly
in some long forgotten
retreat for me

somewhere in a 
childhood so far
away from me

in a place close
to my house
a city park. . .
Garvin Park

     III

A little boy
running free
under the trees
sun pleasantly warm
on his back

he couldn't be
no more than four

endless gales of laughter
look at me daddy
I'm running

it's his first time
out of the house
and the leaves
freshly fallen
crinkle under his feet
soft breezes blowing
his short hair about

      IV

Fall
leaves bright red
on the trees
with flaming oranges
crisp browns
lemon yellows
and some pale greens

underneath
a second grader
scurries about
hunting for 
different leaves
for school

a nippy wind
cools him
as he searches
for maple, sycamore
and oak leaves

finding an
occassional buckeye
or was it a 
common acorn
in the air
the smell
of burning leaves

      V

Spring

he's with his class
on a field trip
feeling a little
bit indignant
he knows his teacher
meant well but
he's walked here before

it's not like
he's totally helpless
just because he's
handicapped
he'll prove
to them and
won't complain

he sits and watches
the others play
tired out
but very proud

      VI

Later on
a fifth grader
with his class

fishing at the
park's lake

he's borrowed 
his dad's
rod and reel
not really knowing
how to fish

how hard could it be

it's a perfect day
a nice wind blowing
and the sun shining brightly
everything seems
so pure and new
invigorating

newly cut grass
and some flowers
freshen the air

he reaches back
and casts off the line

until the reel
flies off the rod
hopelessly tangling
the line

     VII

Summer any year
during his childhood
he walks around the lake
with his brother and sister
just feeding off the sense
of renewal he gets

talking and laughing
as problems retreat
in the face of
pleasant company

he know it's
not far from home
but it seems
to be a different world
a different time. . .

     VIII

Ghosts haunt
this mortal world
phantom laughter
sounds around me

of a young boy
growing up
not a care
in his world

occassionally
tears fall
as a broken heart
struggles to mend

as the windows
of the soul
are allowed to open

who knows
what might be
called up
the next time. . .

Paul Vernon Deffendall
September 4, 1996

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