A lonely hand reaches deep and wide.

Eleanor Rigby waits at the window —

I slump with full awareness

that the window shuts her in,

her practiced sigh releases nothing

to the farther side where

hope could make a different noise.

The French girl twirls her rings

and teases hopeful troth

from the boy who learns too late

she is too much for him,

the boy who will slump alone,

later, at the café

where her friends have

no English words for him.

In like despair,

I shrink from such bandied silence

that fills my ears

and empties my heart,

I practice solitary sighs,

reaching deeper and wider

for the touch

that can tip the count to two.

Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

Inspired by

“Eleanor Rigby” — The Beatles, 1966

“The French Girl” — Ian and Sylvia (Fricker) Tyson, 1966

Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

I try to write each of my poems in a way that makes it possible for you to know, as precisely as possible, what’s going on in my mind and in my imagination. Most of my poems are free verse, because rhyming is hard work, and because I don’t think in rhymes. Perhaps “my muse” is simply me, in a beautiful dimension where absolutes prevail, where love is glorious, where no grand feeling is unexpressed, where just the right word is always on my lips. Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

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Originally published at Richard Subber.