I came as I, Always believing in myself. I got married, And became We, We built a home, Had a boy and girl, We became us. Us had a story, With many chapters Some with sad and some with happy memories. 16/11/2023
Curtains blow through tight closed panes not a breath of wind but the shape remains no breeze has settled on my windowsill outside the sleeping world is still and yet those curtains wander where they will I turn my back on flowered fingers and try to sleep but the feeling lingers
Trying to suggest billowy curtains in the rhythm of the poem