Ventana: An Exercise

The Window is white
It is taller than I am
When I hang curtains.
It sits across from my desk
Which sits under my bed
And when the sunrises it turns
Them both orange.
I can see anything through
The clear glass.

White fabric falls from
The top of my window it’s
Cotton and clean.
There is snow and rain
Sunshine, too, outside.
Broken into pictures by the glass panes.
Open and close the
Gateway into a new world
Everything is there.

No matter how cold the glass feels
From inside, outside of the window it is
Always spring.
In the late summer
The wind blows through mesh screen and
Smells of fresh cut grass.
It is safe behind the window when the wind howls
Or when the rain pounds—
Nothing can get through the glass.

I look and see my
reflection in it’s panes like
crystal clear water.

It’s always as open or as closed
As I want it to be.
The locks at the top
Can keep other people out
and keep me in.