Poem: False Windows


False Windows

The city landscape is cluttered,
each building vying for attention,
all sharp lines and reaching
for a diminished landscape.

There are windows, almost like steps,
so common they are lost,
not even considered, simply
part of the clutter,

a useless kind of window
that never opens
to let in air or the sounds of the city,
more prison than opening, a tease

to those inside,
showing the sunshine and warmth
they can never quite feel
without leaving the fearful safety

of their locks and doors.



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