Poem: If I Was A Window

Here’s a speed-written and unedited poem from a recent poetry meet-up. My prompt was: If I Was A Window.

If I was a window
I’d grow tired of being ignored
everyone looking through my transparency
but no one seeing me.

Except the window cleaner
that man with such a loving touch
gently caressing the smooth surface of my panes
with a well-practiced eye.

Oh, I know he has other windows
goes through a whole row of us
insatiable
and yes, I may not be anything special
like one of the high-rise, top-skyscraper
sheet crystal glass beauties
elusively unavailable and hard to reach
so tantalising to a man like him

but my simple single-glazed existence
is so much more accessible.

Easy? Me?
Try opening me on a winter’s day
the cold stiffening my latches
something awful.

But a little love and tenderness
and perhaps the touch of someone who cares
and I’ll show you the world.

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