The Window

As I looked outside my window
while I dreamed about my past,
I saw before me
nothing but memories.

When I think about my childhood
I think about the times,
when nothing seemed to matter
except cakes and pies.

My teen years are now before me
for now, I am thirteen.
Now I know where I am going in life,
as I try to put my past behind me.

But as I look outside this window
my memories are too rare,
and I say to myself, you really do care.
Thinking of my future, I turn and look around.

Now I close the window,
but only halfway.
For I know I'll want to look again
Sometime, someday.

...Poetry Index