Poem -
The Window
My neighbour is obsessed with his window
plays it like a violin:
first open fat and wide
then closed up and thin.
Always following the sunlight
across the arc of day,
then letting in moonlight wind
while his TV plays.
I imagine the old man sitting there
blue with cathode beams,
head down snoring softly,
replaying ancient scenes
as the howling world rolls through the night
and vapours fill his dreams.
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Comments
Windows they look the same, but they are different, inside is intimacy, outside, life and people, behind each glass lies a truth, all windows, all windows look the same but are different.
An intimist poem with a totally heavenly image, greetings and welcome to COSMO!
Cool riff on the concept of windows, Lucas. Â
We've all got so many, don't we?  Dirty ones, 'clean' and shiny ones.  Custom tinted black or rose, very cracked, or seemingly pristine!  Â
Thank you for the warm welcome to the FUNNEL, amigo.Â
Hey Chris!!..........it's pretty obvious you've written before........you did a great job conveying your thoughts on your neighbors relationship with his window here (smiles)...........and poetic delivery is not always that simple...........this is VERY well conceived and beautifully delivered...........well done.......and ........here's another WELCOME to COSMO brother!!............T xo
Thanks for your very generous review of the poem, Tony.  I've mostly just written songs before, the occasional poem; so it's a surprise and a buzz to receive such a warm welcome for the work.  Thank you again, pilgrim! Â