Just outside my window I could see.
A beautiful world behind a frame.
Through crystal glass never twice the same.
A new facet.
Each a fresh perspective.
A World within a window,
A painted picture
A drawn in primary forest.
A perfect setting.
Becomes a changed land.
Just outside my window I could see
The tops of the trees, the embracing sky.
Pale pastels, each a calming tone.
A car, a cycle, would pass then be gone,
The birds would sing,
Pulling in,
what the day would bring.
Strong boughs would bending lower,
Up to the twigs filling with flower.
Bountiful fruit, overflows.
Shades grow longer and slip in.
Frogs croak
Leaves bloat.
A loud owl hoot.
A sky filled with soot.
Fire flies around.
The call of a hunting hound.
Chased away,
Where did it go,
Why did it leave.
Shouldn't I know?
Just outside my window I could see.
Distant smoking peaks of volcanic ash,
An adventure a day, a fairytale book.
They said opportunities came through doors.
In my head I sail across the worlds.
From the pages back into reality.
A pretty place,
Kind of rash.
I glance once,
Boughs full of flowers
I look again.
No, not quite.
They're bare.
A different window,
A different house.
Paved roads,
Heavy loads.
Another home.
Just outside a window I could see
Rooftops of silvery sleet.
A sorrowful wail from the wind,
Sent across the sapphire sea,
Of playful dolphins and laughing whales.
Slowly turning into a shade of uncertain grey,
Uniform and dull,
the world would become.
It's lonesome,
tall buildings, scraping the sky.
Skyscrapers.
A different day,
A different consequence.
A broken record playing in a sequence.
I look away.
I look again.
Hoping to see way back then.
Just outside a window I can see--
I'm reflected back at me,
Aren't eyes the windows of your mind?
People change.
A different window,
A different life,
A world full of wonder,
And a world full of strife.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoesíaSo... poetry is fancy writing, write? Haha, bad puns. To whoever reads this: This is cringe, and I know out, but it was fun anyway :)
