What be a window but a hollowed wall
With rungs to hold so we do not fall?
What be a window but an opening bare
To a world that flows without a care?
A faithful friend to a travelling mind,
It holds the thought that stays behind
As life scrambles and runs up fast
To overtake those that surge past.
A window blinks in bright sunshine
It smells of flowers and drops of wine
For here is where one toasts the sky,
And lovers meet to kiss goodbye.
A howling wind she makes a feather.
At her feet pools of water gather,
Whether rain or tears, that I know not.
The window would; she never forgot.
She weaves through moments new and old
And laces them with strands of gold
Sweet music fills nostalgia deep
And lulls a restless soul to sleep.
A fire relit, a spirit rekindled,
A scoopful of the past re-bundled;
The window shows what one can find
In the recesses of a human mind.
An open door, they say, will bring
A chance to make your fortune sing
A window though, through joy and gloom,
can sing a soul and make it bloom.
– January 2016