The Poetry Window

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

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