Here is my poem for last week’s poetry prompt, Window:
Just a Tiny Window
I’m in a room with one window,
It’s set high up from the floor.
I can see a tree lined hill top,
I can see that and no more.
I suspect there is no trail there
since, from early morning dawn,
I see no passers by
and I watch till the sun is gone.
I must be looking East,
the hill is shadowed at first light
and when the sunset comes,
it’s sandstone reds become bright.
My tiny, single window,
high up on the wall,
is my clock and my savior,
my connection to it all.
It brings bird song to my mind
and the memory of breeze;
I can slip past my confinement
and put myself at ease.