Last night when I was sticking my cheek on the window
Looking out at the stretched skin of the night
And the pores through which light poured out
The window whispered into my ear
His dream to break free from its stone frame.
All night in my nightmare I heard the glasses being shattered
In the morning, the window was gazing stoutly
At the nonchalant people rushing up the street
Who had never heard the song of windows.
No comments:
Post a Comment