Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of night.
Not an unusual sight.
But not one often seen.
Wheat fields sway in the wind.
And rain lashes onto the ground.
With a tearing, tearful sound.
I smell the strong sweet air.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of the night.
Too usual a sight.
One too often seen.
Cars rumble through the street
Beeping, honking, causing fright.
Blinding flashes of light.
I cough on suffocating fumes.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of night.
Not an unusual sight.
But not one often seen.
I look, and hope, and feel, and smell.
The wind whistles through the trees,
Much more than a country breeze.
It hugs itself around the land.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of the night.
Too usual a sight.
One too often seen.
Tall towers of concrete,
Embedded with mirrors of glass.
Everyone under it’s shades pass.
Can’t hide from the tall structures.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of night.
Not an unusual sight.
But not one often seen.
The surf tumbles over the sand,
In miraculous shades of white and blue,
Which shells swirl through.
It encircles your feet.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of the night.
Too usual a sight.
One too often seen.
Yelled obscenities,
Harsh words,
Attack in herds.
Create pain that’s hard to heal.
Darkness at the other side of the window glass.
And I see the happenings of the night.
Such beautiful a sight,
But only if you really see.
It takes more than looking to really see.
AN: it might be obvious, but i don't really like the city. please do not be offended if you are a city kid.
