windows
have always
fascinated me.
are they always
merely
windows to a house?
sometimes
they're windows
to a home.
sometimes
to a soul.
sometimes
they're cracked,
other times
they're bullet-proof.
sometimes
my windows
will open out
and allow you
to sneak in
but mostly
they will be
stronger than concrete walls;
it will be a lifetime
before anyone i don't want
can even begin
to unlatch them.
to you though
the glass of my windows
is nothing more than the crystals
of thin ice
they will melt away
in your presence
and welcome you in
past
the airy curtains
to offer you
dreams and a cup of tea.
