‘my window’

my window is cracked
a web of jagged
disjointed lines
that distort the view
i can’t remember when
the crack appeared
when i first noticed it
i thought it ruined the landscape
now i’m not so sure
it seems to present an additional
hitherto unseen
a truth about what’s really
out there

there is dirt on my window
it builds up thickest
at the edges
and in the crack
it is very old dirt
and i wonder if the grime
is responsible for keeping
the glass in place
all this time
there are streaks left by the rain
more distortions
to the picture

others don’t like my window
they tell me to clean it
to get it fixed
but if i did that
my window would be just like
any other
it would lose its character
the very thing that makes it
what a shame that would be
when anyone says that
i tell them to go away
why do they care anyway
they should worry about their own
clean and dull

i can draw a perfect representation
of the details of my window
i know it intimately
once i had to go away
and stay in a different room
with a different window
it made me sad
until i found a marker pen
and drew the features of my window
on the plain foreign piece of glass
that helped a little
fortunately i don’t do away
very often
so i get to look through my window
every day

sometimes i think my window
watches me
even as i look
one day it will see me fall
and won’t tell a soul
what happened
at that time i hope the crack
just a little
even though no-one will
i’ll know


This entry was posted in creative, journal, verse, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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