it’s -2 degrees.
the sun can’t warm the chill.
overhead, the clouds
blotch daydreams paler.
all im thinking is
it’s been 2 years.
sighing on the glass makes
condensation collect.
like a river,
hold my mouth to the runoff.
i can’t run from grief in the cold sunshine.
but i’ll never let a loss leave me thirsty
for more.

It's been said that the eyes
are windows to the soul.
If you believe this is true, remember:
windows can be tinted.

A wall of Jacobean era lattice-windows
line my dorm room - my private eyes.

How many freshmen have watched
the gilt harvest moon from this seat?

I keep them open, for cool breezes,
and the comforting the sounds of life,
in overworked, needy moments.

my dog has depression,
can’t drag itself out of bed; it lays in the kitchen and looks out the window,
wondering, worrying, whining about the light - about the window and the view; it never has
anything much to say,
or if it does,
it doesn’t amount to much, anyway; but it’s okay, it’s just my dog -
it’s not me, anyway; my dog has blue eyes - wish they were brown; all my friends have brown,
and they all seem happy; my dog can’t walk straight; it’s loud,
it’s annoying,
sometimes it smells; my dog, my dog, my dog, I tell you about my dog;
sometimes I think, it’s more important than me, I mean -
I’m not my dog, anyway; I’m not as interesting; I can’t come and say hello and all those things
that make you people smile and giggle and laugh; and when there’s a pause - a really awkward pause -
I can’t look at you
and have all that - your - worry just disappear, like that; I once screamed and howled and danced at
the moon, and my dog just - stared; but does it really matter - my dog was on a comfy bed, and
the way it sat; the same place where it sleeps -
I tell you about my dog,
I tell you about my dog;
I tell you about it all the time, for

I don’t know how to talk about

me

When I catch a bird's eye view
A city from above at night
Thousands of buildings
Millions of windows
Windows lit up
Where there is light
There is also life
In a sea of people
The most dreaded disease
Remains loneliness

I wake up to a window beside
The first thing I do is open it so I can view the world outside
Many things I see flowers blooming,birds chirping,people walking.
Staring at the world I feel like I am stalking

Yet the world looks so beautiful nature’s beauty given to me in one plate,
This window is like a heavens gate.
This window makes me forget about the cruel world.
It gives me a sense of pleasure whenever it is observed.

I can go on and on about the charm of my window,
Because it helps me recover whenever I feel low.
It’s not the window it self that I like but it’s the nature outside,
The feeling of being locked up is shattered by the windows bright side.

Thanks to the Romans who invented such a beautiful work of art,
I love my window from the depth of my heart.
I feel blessed cause I have such beautiful window,
If it is ever taken away from me I would surely feel like a widow.

Through the glass of my window I see the moon light.
Through the same glass I see sun’s blazing might.
Through the same window I see people fight.
Through it I also see The beautiful blue sky and the clouds that are white.
Whenever I can’t sleep I look at my window in the middle of the night. When you look through the window and you see twilight,
The amount of pleasure received is infinite.
With that cup of coffee when I look outside the warmth is felt deep inside

Throwing shots out a window,
it's all really a pain.
But it won't stick or leave a stain.
Still mind my ways,
the many open things on my brain.
I feel fragile as glass,
so please Lord, don't let me break.