The Wistful Window
For Adults Who Once Were Children
The wistful window gazed though its glass
at the worlds outside, the people who passed
at the crows caw-cawing inside the trees,
Why is it them and never me?
Why should the wind brush the pine needles hair?
Why should the sun light dapple shy stairs?
Why should the moon taste blue twilight,
While I watch famished as it delights?
Why should lilacs kiss the breeze?
Why should sly cats lie however they please?
Why should the rain slick sidewalks grey cheeks?
While I am untouched under damp eaves?
Theres no swell of a storm behind my eyes
I stare out impassive with each goodbye
The frames that enclose me I dare not defy
With a shatter or crack, a slam or cry. ..
From the wooden perch where I peek out
I survey, never touch, the life without.
I wonder what mischief might come to pass
Were I to escape my skin of glass?
