Waiting to Be Let In

A little bit of light
shines through old bottles on the sill,
the color of honey,
the color of whiskey,
depending on your frame of reference.

A little bit of light.
Not all of it. No.
Outside there is more,
waiting for you.
Bright. Dazzling.
There waiting
to be let in.

About this poem

About bottles in a window. About how we at times prevent the very things we want the most.
About how those things are out there. Poetry is never about one thing.

The photograph was taken in an antique shop in Cambridge, NY. Prints are available from Fine Art America.

Tom