hey mister,
i can see your fairy lights
haphazardly hanging in
your window.
can you see
the dying plants on
my kitchen windowsill?
want to trade?
your twinkle lights
for these deceased herbs.
i can see how
that is an unfair deal.
◇◇◇
hey mister,
i see we are twinning
now:
a forest on your 'sill.
did you notice the
revived basil nestled
among the rotting rosemary
and thyme?
did it inspire
your own greenhouse?
maybe you have
greener fingers
than mine.
◇◇◇
hey mister,
do you ever go to sleep?
its 4am, your light is
brighter than the
moonlight.
of course i only noticed
from my own lack of rest,
wandering in my slippers
watching your
window like
a TV.
is your life
a sitcom or
a drama?
◇◇◇
hey mister,
didn't see you there!
too absorbed
in dancing around the oven,
thank your ears
you can't hear me
belting wrong lyrics
to my audience of
spices.
is that a smile
tugging at the corners
of your mouth?
you must be staring out
at the cityscape.
the view from up there
must be astonishing
compared to the
bricks
and cobblestones
i am treated to.
◇◇◇
hey mister,
i can barely see past
the wall of boxes.
it seems you've made a fort!
are you a king
atop a throne
or a heroic knight
come to save all?
can i join your
kingdom of fun?
◇◇◇
hey...
where did your
fairy lights go?
i haven't been home
for a week
and looking up
from here
your windows
are bare.
no box kingdoms,
nor forests.
and definitely
no magical, terribly hung
fairy lights.
◇◇◇
hey, wherever you are,
it's been months
but i still stay up
staring at your window
waiting for a sign
that you're nearby.
sometimes i'll make us
tea, though i'm not sure
how you take it.
i don't mind
sitting here until 1am...
2am...
3am...
until i fall asleep.
because maybe a light
will flicker on
and i'll see
your daydream face
through the pane.
so until then,
i'll wish you good-night
and good-day
my windowsill friend.
YOU ARE READING
unlit matches
Poetrycome and listen to the whispers of lions and the cries of fawns.
