Friday, September 9, 2011

The window is a bitch



The wind owes me* an apology.
Stop trying to blow through me!

The hail, it tries to crack me up.
Think I'm a some sorta chump?

Hey light, think you can go through me
without paying some sort of penalty?


The dirt just wants to cling.
It's such a filthy thing.

Where's that rag that wipes me clean?
Inattention makes me mean.

Loud noises, think you leave me rattled?
Pecking birds ... Skedaddle!

The rain just makes be blue.
The wind—oh, did I mention you?


* Sometimes I can be a pane.





placed in Poets United Think Tank #65: What do you think of when you imagine a window?