every morning,
despite the unseen battle
i dare to open my windows,
to witness the entrance
of the cold breeze
and orange, striking rays
tracing the interiors
of my little room,
hoping for a day
brimming with delight.
every morning,
despite the unseen battle
i dare to open my windows,
to whisper a wish—
the heart’s prayer
to the meandering winds,
to the golden sunbursts,
the future, the uncertain days
will be filled with hope,
with tender kindness.
my teacher required us to pass a poem talking about our experiences/feelings during the pandemic and this girl shamelessly shared the development of this eccentric obsession called 'opening her room's windows first in the morning'
