THROUGH THIS WINDOW

​It's in this stained glass soliloquy where you'll find the things I speak only to me

The sunlight shines on me the same as it does for those hustling and bustling by.

My window panes are a bit smaller, a bit more weathered and they sit on the wrong side of a town that determines its own good and bad.

I watch as the bankers and businessmen shuffle past and wonder how I lucked into this spot by my window.

How did this paupers life find me, and why was I picked to be the lucky one? I explore art and brush strokes while the world outside spins in a delirium and races one day to the next. I can pause and look, and touch, and take in every beautiful thing that surrounds me while an entire planet maintains a laser focus on the mundane.

I'll pull up my collar, find warmth for my hands in these worn out pockets of mine, and keep thanking this strange and wonderful place that's found me.