The Window Seat

There are things that make me happy, and some more that make me sad. But if I had a seat by the window everything would be happy, sunny mornings, even on melancholic, rainy evenings.
If I had a seat by the window I would write an ode and dedicate it to every bird that came to rest on my sill. And if I had a seat by the window I would keep count of the leaves on the trees and name every single one of them, so that they were never lost.
By the window I would sing for weary passers, and watch the rain pour down as it does right now. Everyday would be Versace and Armani even if it was only gunny and old paper bags. From my window I would dance for the marching band and follow the flight of the bumble bee. All for that seat by the window.
And when life would be a kidney stone I would slide through the crack in my window. And walk barefoot on the roof. And when life would truly be pustular I would simply sit on the sill and let the sunshine carry me home.