Windows Poem by shimon weinroth

a window is a thing of philosophy.
lets you see in and me see out,
lets light in and shadows out,
each land its own particular brand

French windows almost from the floor
and higher up than a door, relieves a
darkened room to let the air fly out
memories of misty musky night,

Dutch bay windows seated,
riches that are in door,
to peek or brazenly gape

Italian windows ostentatiously decorated
German architecture neat and clean,
MacGregor Scotch not deco and cold frills

Vienese oh so sweet and art nouveau
for all birds that sing, hop upon the window sill,
sounds of anger tarry at will,

A wiindow if you will is a way of life
decorative, not the painting of still life
laughter is free and easy,

sounded flies out to infect
windows to escape or let in the din
looks out or into dynamics of real life,
ornamentated draws attention,
lets its face both see or be seen,

a candle light in the window of night
a sight, a guiding light for weary wanderers
lost souls or intruders,
the folk reside within
shuttered confined, iron grailings cover up,

what was supposed to afford free acssess
each window has its own philosophy