Poem for a window
We met a thousand years ago by a lonely window
I was a wild rose then growing by your window.
Forests of memories walk past greying cold doors
Yet burning suns will always rise outside my window.
Lost scents hang lazily from an old heavy sky,
sting like rain on abandoned nights. Shut that window.
The wild rose forgets to bloom on still mornings
But birds remember my song roosting by the window.
Winds blow secrets from distant shy mountains,
bring back a country where I lived without windows.
A desert is born in dry hearts and thirsty minds
yet dreams feed on glowing sand, inviting like a window.
Words sleep like frightened children on dreary nights,
wake up as poems with wings. Open the window.