from the fourth floor
of the university library
I can look into the
lives of others
giving shape
to people
I know only
through the panes
of two windows
distanced by the wide side
of an urban

there is so much
to learn
from the window sill
where empty pots
and art projects rest
a lamp hangs
over the
lifeless stalks
of plants long gone
and a mister
sits forlorn,
nozzle turned
away from its
neglected charges

and there are windows
draped with tidy
and some not
draped at all
others still
have bed sheets
hung in hurries
the press of life
too rushed for any
effort more than that

I dream
of shedding all
my fancies
to pack what’s left
in a single bag..
easy and unattached
to any place
other than a single sill

Other Posts