like those ubiquitous windows
square, circular, rectangle.
A face, window of the soul
its smile, grin, agape, convey
the joy, lighthearted demeanor;
like the radiant morning sun.
Yet, tears fall on the furrowed face
with lips muttering longing sighs,
imply the pang of inner pain
of a man possessed by sadness.
Faces, though, show sign of years,
the baby's smooth lovable skin
the kissable lips of a young woman
sadly, the wrinkled face of the aged.
Faces, window and mirror
of the proud, later humbled man
creature of the dynamic Nature
ephemeral art of a great Creator.
© 2019 Carlos_Jainga
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