Through the Glass

My precious one, you are a joy to me!
And when we talk, I feel so close to you.
So close—and yet I cannot hold your hand,
Or kiss your lips, or feel your fingers glide
Caressingly across my cheek and hair.
A piece of glass both joins and separates.
I touch it to send messages of love
And read upon its surface those from you.
Then from a thousand miles a thousand words
Shine through the glass! Accursed glass! For though
I see the face that I adore, no more
Than look, for when I touch, it feels like glass.
Forgive me. I should not ungrateful be.
We owe all our togetherness to glass.


Copyright © 2018 Abigail Gronway – All Rights Reserved


Blank Sonnet

Fourteen lines of unrhymed verse written in iambic pentameter

8 Replies to “Through the Glass”

  1. Such a wonderful and deeply romantic poem! Loved the way you portrayed “The Glass” as friend and foe, brilliant!
    Especially, loved your last two lines!! MORE of these please??? Bellissimo, Bellissimo

    Liked by 1 person

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