The Window

Over a labyrinth of dust carved by cockroaches scampering away at the faintest sign of company, waning light is unevenly cast by an old crackled glass window. Limp and age-stained curtains tint green the yellowish rays where they haven’t been eaten through by moths which flutter unwittingly along an old crackled glass window. The sullen mood satisfies the bees which hum, as they go to-and-fro, some sulking tune void of melody which reverberates nicely off an old crackled glass window. There is no living recollection not even among spiders peering wistfully about who have long-adorned in cobweb that old crackled glass window. Yet recorded in detail black and white on the wall hanging skewed from a nail is an old family portrait taken under a clear glass window. 07/18/15