Stretch your hand and open the window, <br /> <br />maybe a sunbeam drops in, <br />in a zigzag way, by reflection, <br />maybe a star promising a change. <br /> <br />Open the window, <br /> <br />perhaps a person in rush drops a glance inside, <br />a beauty girl sprinkled by the rain, <br />a shallow mother that lost her baby. <br /> <br />Open the window, <br /> <br />maybe the ball of the children shows up <br />their voice perhaps climbs up <br />a bending branch, a kitten. <br /> <br />Open the window, <br /> <br />even if a wave of dust, of hail, invades, <br />a shadow or its shadow, two shadows in one, <br />or even a shadow shading another. <br /> <br />Open the window, <br /> <br />even if the city fell asleep, <br />even if the city passed away, <br />even if there is no sign which of the two. <br /> <br />Stretch your hand and open for us the window. <br /> <br />In its place there will be a painting <br />hanged, speechless staring at us. <br />At least it will fill our empty wall. <br /> <br /> <br />Summer,2002, Karlovivari, Czech Republic<br /><br />Joseph S. Josephides<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-window/
