Reading By the Window: a Glimpse Into the Story
The pages open
like leaves fluttering
in a stiff summer breeze
that reaches through the window,
carrying whispers and echoes
from lands far and away.
Beckoning restless hands
to turn the pages.
A breeze caresses the face
with a delicate touch,
like a hand tracing
the rough, grainy words on a page,
forever altering the contours
of oneself.
The flip-flap of pages
in silent moments
between a held breath
and whisper of words
like tiny wings of a hummingbird,
carrying you on endless adventures.
Shadow of the sun creeps by
while words gleam
in passing moonlight.
As dews gather light
on a ripening orange
glimpsed through the window.
The moment ripens while
dewdrops trace a winding, halting trail
along the pitted mien of the fruit
as the eyes flit over the words,
trying to prolong the inevitable,
enticing you to savor
the bittersweet moment
this long-awaited fruition brings.
A cocoon of warmth and safety
recedes like fading echoes
and the breeze vanishes,
carrying a part of you
leaving behind a lingering phantom
till the pages open again.
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