When a woman looks through a window. She ponders. She perceives.
A world that’s all moving.
A heaven that’s all too far.…
A humanity that’s conflicted.
It’s a landscape. Painted by her mind. Her mood. Her days and nights.
On some misty morns, she sees sorrow on the move.
On some rainbow noons, she sees hopeful smiles.
On some grey evenings, she sees only movement.
On some white nights, she sees a woman just like her, walking among them…
When a woman looks through a window, she looks at the mirror.
A mirror she has hidden carefully in her heart.