The Closed Window

All I ever wanted was a desk and a chair
By the window of a humble mountaintop lair
Eyes feasting on panoramic vistas open to distant horizon
A book in my hand opening the windows to the world beyond
Gentle wind caressing my hair, imaginations running wild
Aromas from a cup of tea wafting through the air
Turning the pages of the book illuminated by the morning sun
I reflect on what this life has become
Battered by thousand storms of unfulfilled expectations
Harsh realities pushing simple dream beyond recognition
Smiling face masking the ache of a heart silently weeping alone
Storm damaged window of a lonely heart shuttered long ago
Words on pages of this closed book are now meaningless
Fading light of the setting sun does not come through
The closed window anymore

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Author: pranabaxom

Poetry is my passion. I am not a methodical writer. I have no set topics to write about. What I feel, perceive, think about, I will like to share in this blog. I open my mind to the world. Like the weather, sometimes my poems are cloudy, sometimes stormy. I always like to see sunshine streaming through the leaves of trees, so I hope I can share some of those sunshine with my readers.

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