Hello. Today we’re looking through the Poetry Window. Dobby and I wonder if we can see any poetry out there……
Dobby reckons not, but by sheer coincidence, I happen to have a poem called Windows! How uncanny is that ?!
Read on –
WINDOWS
Why are everyone else’s windows so warm
and enticing? Comfortable and cosy?
Walking back from me Nan’s, I see
orange bay windows, the colour of Quality Street,
concealing a happy family snuggled up.
Toys cleared away, clean pYjamas and cocoa.
Why do I have to come home to such a
shithole?!
A fusion of strip lighting and cold lino,
the coal fire warming our fronts while our backs
shivered.
No-one would look at our crude lighted window with
such envy!
Anyway, it faces the back!
HM 2018
Heather Moulson 