The Window Seat
Excuse me Miss
I have no intention of harming your shade,
But the seat you left vacant for me is rather
absent.
Absent of roses I could finally romance into
smelling, absent of yin that could relax urges that
might present a stroke 70 summers later.
For some esoteric reason, this seat you’ve
manipulated into occupying until tomorrow’s
departure seems stable;
It has no opposition in waiting.
So please Miss, introduce your window seat to
me ever so kindly.
You see the seat you offered in due time, does
not welcome smiles. It’s cold, unfulfilling skin leaves
me cautious; the torn fabric has failed my thoughts
of safely time and time again.
Hope won’t join my travels while married to this seat.
I’m left contemplating questions of whether this
is my sedentary companion for the next 100 years?
But what is perhaps defined from amazing, is the
glimpse you hold dominant in this seat.
You’ve’ held this arrogant glow upon the leather,
with no remorse for the penniless seat fillers.
The carelessness of sight unvisited through the
multitude of generations is the lowest insult one
can fathom; with no refund offered as of yet.
Miss, the window seat, please.
You see, beyond the significant glory the seat
would offer,
There is a silence of worries I wish to court,
An everlasting view from peaceful quarters, that
never warrants a superficial return.
Specs without representation could meet their
potential among the tranquil armchair.
That is why my passions advance today; for there
is a retreat looming.
Miss I believe this is your exit.
Remember change pauses for nobody’s unanswered
why. The knowing is what you will reap later.
Farewell, descending one.
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