while a late winter sun warms my back
through the double-glass window
she lies in her hospital bed
restlessly moving her head and left arm
her right arm numb under the blanket
unseeing eyes try to fix my whereabouts
ears pricked up to hear every sound
she speaks a language unknown
a language of her own
but with obvious meaning
now and again
a smile full of memories
brightens her face
WINDOWS ARE THE EYES OF A BUILDING.THEY SEE WHAT'S GOING ON OUTSIDE.THEY SEE THE WORLD CHANGE.THEY DON'T REACT TO CHANGES.THEY WATCH IN A QUIET SORT OF WAY.UNLESS SHUTTERS PREVENT THIS.
