A Window Parable

Since a teen, I used to think

That someone lived on the brink….

Of the clouds, or maybe the strata above them

Drawing the horizons of sphere then and then

I could feel through the window, in the warmth of the sunshine

It’s smile, trying to bring the best of mine….

Same was the case with the boisterous moonlight

As if it’s cool sneeze used to seize the job of drowning me into sleep at midnight…..

And every time I used to cry

I think it used to wet it’s bed, or cry all along, only to try….

To brush off what I wanted to stay

In order to remind me of the reminisce days

When I could see life and feel it’s unparalleled love in Languor

Which would bring a smile on my face, as I was a life’s paramour….

But now I live by this very abled parable Window, aka my dearest dove

Capable of being my disabled soul’s beloved, than a broken widow

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2 thoughts on “A Window Parable

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