a window is a thing of philosophy. <br />lets you see in and me see out, <br />lets light in and shadows out, <br />each land its own particular brand <br /> <br />French windows almost from the floor <br />and higher up than a door, relieves a <br />darkened room to let the air fly out <br />memories of misty musky night, <br /> <br />Dutch bay windows seated, <br />riches that are in door, <br />to peek or brazenly gape <br /> <br />Italian windows ostentatiously decorated <br />German architecture neat and clean, <br />MacGregor Scotch not deco and cold frills <br /> <br />Vienese oh so sweet and art nouveau <br />for all birds that sing, hop upon the window sill, <br />sounds of anger tarry at will, <br /> <br />A wiindow if you will is a way of life <br />decorative, not the painting of still life <br />laughter is free and easy, <br /> <br />sounded flies out to infect <br />windows to escape or let in the din <br />looks out or into dynamics of real life, <br />ornamentated draws attention, <br />lets its face both see or be seen, <br /> <br />a candle light in the window of night <br />a sight, a guiding light for weary wanderers <br />lost souls or intruders, <br />the folk reside within <br />shuttered confined, iron grailings cover up, <br /> <br />what was supposed to afford free acssess <br />each window has its own philosophy<br /><br />shimon weinroth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/windows-16/
