I look through the open window,
I look, but I do not see.
I hear the heavy raindrops above my head,
And I imagine what the Braille would read,
If the rain were strong enough to dent a roof;
I wish it were.
I hear a bird chirp; a sharp, clear sound,
And I wonder who its singing for.
I smell the pine needles and the blossoms around,
I taste the air cool air on my tongue.
And I feel the gale,
Blowing against the window,
Blowing the rain against me.
Then I hear the gate creak,
And the crunch of the autumn leaves,
As strong feet walk over them.
So I ease shut the window,
And I sit down again.
Waiting for father to come and ask,
In a tone of despair, if I am well.
Waiting for him to hand over my food,
And turn away as fast as he came.
I sigh and I wait.
I hear the flapping of wings,
Right outside my window and I wonder,
If I tried hard enough, could I fly?
Could I fly away from my dark world?
Into a place where I,
Like everyone around, could see.
See the beauty and the darkness,
Of the world around me.