i have a little window
in the corner of my room
occasionally
i open it
and let its light shine through
the corner
with the window
is oft neglected
in want of mop or broom
my window is quite old
i think its glass
may be twisted
and cast a distorted hue
the window casing
may be warped
from years of weather
the frame may not be true
sometimes the things i see
are not quite what they seem
the days i open my window
are both seldom and few
i throw the window open
it’s jaded light shines through
i tilt my head to compensate
severely slanted view
the world is out of joint
the bard echoes in my mind
nay, ’tis merely my window
its perspective set askew
if only time could set it right
dispel phantom smoke and fumes
fight against the rising tide
nay, it is up to me and you
