Poem: Window.

Her deep grey eyes,
Were fond of an old creaky window,
It was silver and separated everything,
With checks and crosses.
She used to map the world on its shadow,
And neglected that her countries were boxed.

But one day she was tempted to look outside,
So she wandered around the place.
And realized,
She had hallucinated the window's beauty.
The metal wasn't a summer morning,
It was cold and tough.
Thought of it as a cage,
Now she cursed it.

Years later she understood it was her power;
To focus on the world and the window would've blured away.
But she wanted to own both;
The warmth of the cage,
And the wrath of the sage.