Broken Window

By Sahiba Sarker

One day doesn't go by

Without my window creaking high,

Sometimes struck by a cricket ball;

Other times by the nightfall.

The morning beam seeps into the windowsill Radiating a soft glow, bringing goodwill,

Fancying a cup of Joe, glancing through the glass;

The city outside looks mundane and impasse.

Lovestruck letters are left on the pane by the boy scout

Not a midsummer night's dream to reverie about,

For the moon, it looks transcendent;

Why is it only her who's despondent?

Sliding the claret coloured curtains of her window

Down she looks to folks frolicking down the street, playing a mellow,

Longing to drown herself into that kind of euphoria;

Oh, will someone ever get her some Wisterias?

By Sahiba Sarker