Window (Poetry)

His lighted window drew her like a shrine
beaming out a welcome from above -
intense, as though the source was near-divine,
the emanation close to perfect love.

She hovered, a shy watcher in the wings;
glimpsed a shadow move and heard his voice;
felt the surge anticipation brings
and answered - in her heart she had no choice.

A figure filled the frame - she saw his face
staring out, brow creased into a frown,
uncertain, she withdrew, stepped back a pace
as he reached for the blinds and drew them down.

She heard his laugh and then a muttered curse -
dismissive, though he still set the alarm,
he left her with no hope, but even worse -
no way to let him know she meant no harm.

The magistrate had heard it all before
and labelled her a stalker like the rest,
restrained her with an order, nothing more,
believing it would serve the matter best.

She lingers - a sad Echo in his mind -
and he, the vain Narcissus she adored,
now sits beside his window, hopes to find
forgiveness from the ghost he once ignored.