The windows open, but then shut so fast,
Yet so much time seems to have passed.
They open to welcome the seers to be,
But then they quickly shut, before me.
Signals are of but no use to me,
For they help not what I try to see.
The signals he sends are puzzling and nonsense,
Sends me and perhaps him too, into a trance.
These windows, they slam, when opened in the breeze,
Like afraid, not knowing how I could bring ease.
Stubborn they will always be,
But I see no wrong in that - not me.
These windows show something deeper than you know,
Something that I only know, they show.
Wish I could keep all my secrets hidden away from all,
But I know I'll spill them at our dazzling ball.
A ball, that when described as what it truly is,
Seems not nearly as beautiful, although it's mine and his.
So as long as it's the both of us, happy I will stay,
But many days I have awaited, all wasted away.
Windows, I say, are the eyes to architecture,
And the eyes are the Windows to a soul, and will be forever.
I look through the Windows to your soul,
I see many things, along with a dark black hole.
Look through my Windows, and enchant me,
Look through me Windows, happily!
Look at where we could be, you and me,
Just look at who you and I could be.
YOU ARE READING
A Different Voice
Poetry"Why is it that those who choose rightly and differently from others never feel like they have succeeded until others tell them that they have succeeded? And why is it that those who choose wrongly and the same to others never realise that they hav...
