This poem rips from my soul, through my fingers, onto the keys, through the invisible wires to share with my fellow humans, taking part of my heart with it on its journey.
concrete bunk beds with rubber mats
waiting in line
loud doors
echoing halls
eyes ever watching
mundane things mingled
with tenderness
collect calls
miss you so much
four bare walls
toilets flush
beside the phones
how long? no one knows
waiting, anxiety grows
kisses through glass
hands palm to palm
warm eyes smiling
through the pane
throwing kisses in the air
he walks away, slow easy swing
twisting my ring, I
follow his graceful form
with blurring eyes.
when a month looks like forever
takes a week to get your glasses
they don't care if you don't have your medication
coffee machine but the money isn't on the books yet
was that dad on the phone?
does he still have a back ache?
what did he have for dinner?
did he hold hands with you through the glass again, mom?
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(c) 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.
I know excatly where this poem is coming from,I have 3 small children and their father was in prison. Nobody can understand how "Kisses through Glass" feels until they have been there. This poem is bittersweet; Thank You!
Jonathan
I think I'm in Love
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