Like Wendy, sad at her window
we mothers wipe small fingerprints
from glass, looking through it for hints
of pirates or pixies below.
Languishing eyes search empty skies
for childish dreams we should outgrow.
That old dream outgrew us long since...
and Wendy waits at her window.
I wrote this for One Stop Poetry's form challenge. This week's form is the Octain, which consists of eight lines and eight syllables per line. I won't bore you with the other rules, but I enjoyed working with it!
Click here to read the other octains and high octains submitted.